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ISLAND PATTY 


BY 




MARY E. Q. BRUSH 


AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 
150 NASSAU STREET 


NEW YORK 



i 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Received 

AUG. 9 1901 

Copyright entry 

yvio^%K ‘Roi 

CLASSdL XXs. N*. 
COPY B. 


COPYRIGHT, 1901, 

BY AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


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CONTENTS. 

Chapter 1 5 

“ II 16 

“ III 26 

“ IV 39 

V 52 

“ VI 66 

“ VH 78 

“ VIII 86 



PATTY WAS ROWING RAPIDLY ACROSS TO THE JUDGE S ISLAND. 






ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER 1. 

A HOARSE sound made prolonged echoes across 
the river; it was the wliistle of the big steamboat, 
the “St. Lawrence,” on lier daily trip from Clayton, 
bringing the evening load of passengers and mail. 
Hardly was the noise lost among the rocky islets and 
watery labyrinths of the beautiful river before Patty 
(Iraham dro])ped the flatiron with which she was 
smoothing out a tattered pink ai)ron belonging to 
one of the twins, and, bareheaded, with her fine 
flaxen hair flying in the breeze, ran down the stony 
jjath leading to the water’s edge. 

Like a brood of noisy chickens the children fol- 
lowed her, and clamoi'ous and quarrelsome, as was 
tlieir wont, scattered themselves here and there on 
the black, ill-smelling planks of the rotting dock. 

An unkempt set they were — “those wild Craham 
youngsters of Minnow Island,” as the people of the 
mainland contemptuously or commiseratingly called 


( 5 ) 


6 


ISLAND PATTY 


them. There were the twins, Grant and IVIeade, 
so named by their patriotic sire — two black-eyed, 
gypsyish-looking little lads of four years, whose 
clothing suggested a wardrobe of astonishing elas- 
ticity, for part of the time they wore jackets and 
trousers, as became their sex, and the rest of the 
time petticoats and pinafores; for Patty, whom 
circumstances compelled to be very economical, 
said, “They’ve got to use up their baby dresses, 
and must wear them until Tom has outgrown his 
things.” 

Tom was the next older child, a grave, quiet little 
lad, with dark, serious eyes and a face toward which 
many a tourist turned — it possessed so wondrous a 
beauty of feature, coloring and expression. Little 
Tom was a music-loving soul. An old Frenchman 
up at Gananoque had given him a violin — a cheap, 
shackly affair, but tucked under Tom’s soft little 
chin, and touched by his tanned fingers, it awoke 
such melodious strains that many a boatman on the 
St. Lawrence let his oars rest and paused to listen 
to the sweet sounds floating out from Minnow Island. 

After Tom came Dick and Joe, sturdy, common- 
place lads; and then Loretta, generally called 
“Retta,” whose ])retty })eachbloom face neither 
blaze of sun nor glare of water seemed to tan or 
make coarse. Retta was slender and graceful, with 
eyes like cornflowers and hair yellow as cornsilk. 
Retta was dainty and fastidious in all her ways, and 
sometimes seemed strangely out of place among the 
rough belongings of Minnow Island. 

She was the one who was especially favored in 


ISLAND PATTY 


7 


more than beauty. She was always given the best 
of everything, whenever there was any best; very 
often she found fault with even that! 

But let us go back to the old black dock where 
Patty is standing with her brown hand lifted to her 
forehead, shading her eyes from the glare of the 
sunset. 

Far across the shining waters fluttered stripes 
of red and white, with a star-dotted square of blue. 
The tall flagstaff on Valetta Island, which for 
months had stood up gaunt and bare, now reared 
proudly the Stars and Stripes. Valetta Island was 
twin sister to Minnow Island. A channel of water, 
barely an eighth of a mile in width, separated them. 
They were alike in shape and size; the same in rocky 
structure, softened by the same green mosses and 
grasses, with a growth of oak and pine trees. But 
the buildings on Minnow Island were the Grahams’ 
weatherbeaten cabin and woodshed, flanked by 
tarry barrels and washtubs and benches, a tangle of 
clothes lines, and a heap of black driftwood. 

Casa Valetta was pleasant and inviting, with a 
smooth, well-kept lawn, cool with shadows from 
well-arranged groups of trees, yet bright and cheery 
with the sunlight lying in golden streaks across it. 
Amid the foliage were seen the peaked red roofs and 
quaint turrets of a handsome edifice that was 
almost castle-like in shape. There were cosey 
balconies, wide verandahs on both upper and lower 
stories, and at the side of the house and along the 
gray stone terrace by the water’s edge were beds 
of bright blue lobelias, scarlet geraniums and orange 



PATTY STOOD SHADING HER EYES 


ISLAND PATTY 


9 


calendulas, the gay hues of which made a double 
border from their reflection in the clear waters. A 
beautiful spot was Casa Valetta, a bit of fairy land 
created by wealth and good taste. 

Thus far this season Casa Valetta had worn its 
beauties alone — admired only by the occupants of 
boats i)assing near it. Put now Patty Craham 
knew from the flag fluttering so j)roudly in the 
Ijrecze that the owners of the island were expected. 
Only the afternoon before her father had said, with 
an important air, “I got a telegram from Judge 
Leonard this noon. He and his folks are coming 
to-morrow. He wants me to be at the dock when 
the ‘Saint’ comes over from Clayton, and carry him 
and his luggage over to Valetta.” 

“You’ll do it, won’t you, father?” said Patty, 
with a bright face. “The Judge always pays so 
well! It isn’t often that 3^)0 get such a good job.” 

“Nor so hard a one!” drawled Pen Craham. 
“Tliose big Saratogas Madam Leonard has need a 
giant to lift ’em on board. Then there are band- 
boxes and bundles and canary birds and poodles 
and Angora cats and uml)rellas — oh, my! ’most 
every time I get started I have to row back for 
something that’s been forgotten. Put the Judge 
pa3's well for the business, that’s a fact, and — well, 
ma3'be if I get back from fishing over in Eel Pay I’ll 
go down when the ‘Saint’ comes in and lend a hand 
with the Judge’s things. I don’t see” — in a griirnb- 
bling, half-jealous tone — “I don’t see what he has 
so many for! So much mone}^, too! And only him 
and his wife to spend it. I believe I did hear that 


10 


ISLAND PATTY 


he and she adopted a relation — a niece — or some- 
body that they were going to bring here, but I guess 
it ain’t so. At any rate they’ve got two or three 
liouses scattered here and tliere, all of ’em as fine as 
palaces, to say nothing of pretty Casa Waletta. Yes, 
all the mone} they want ; and here am I, as poor as 
Job’s turkey, with eight mouths to feed and precious 
little to do it with!” 

“You wouldn’t spare any of us, would you, pa?” 
little Tom asked, his dark eyes steady with a childish 
gravity. 

“No,” replied Mr. Graham, with an emphatic jerk 
of his long, lank body — “no, of course not, sonny. 
You are a pretty fair set of youngsters, and I’m 
proud of you. Only I wish your ma had lived to 
help take care of 3mu. As it is, it keeps me fl}dn^ 
around all the blessed while!” 

Perhaps it was in consideration of this necessity 
for exerting himself that Ben Graham concluded to 
forego the pleasure of a prolonged day’s fishing in 
Eel Bay, and instead, as the afternoon waned, to 
station himself and his boat near the dock at “ The 
Park.” And when the whistle of the “St. Law- 
rence” sounded over the waters and Patt^^ and her 
brood ran down to the shore of Minnow Island, 
they saw i)resentl\^ the dingy white skiff coming 
across the river, its prow turned toward Valetta 
Island. 

It was heavily laden. Patt}^ could see the Judge’s 
])ink, bald head as he removed his hat to catch the 
first flutter of the evening breeze through Roscabel 
Narrows. She could see the bunch of ])urple velvet 


1ST. AND PATTY 


11 


pansies of the dainty bonnet perched upon Mrs. 
Leonard’s wliite curls; she lieard the nervous little 
screech of the French maid as the swells of the 
outgoing steamer rocked the skiff. 

The twins, Grant and Meade, watched with 
mingled glee and anxiety the insane efforts of a 
shaggy white poodle to jump after his own silly 
reflection in the water. The Grahams were quite 
familiar with all these performances. Every year, 
with one exception, the Leonards had spent the 
ummer at Casa AAletta. Their coming was the 
event of the season. When one has a neighbor only 
a couple of months during the year, one is likely to 
be interested in that neighbor. 

Tom used to lie awake nights listening to Mrs. 
Leonard playing old-fashioned tunes on her grand 
piano; Hetta longed for the dainty embroidered 
gowns hanging upon the Leonards’ clothes-line; 
Dick and Joe were eager for the dimes and quarters 
the Judge gave them when they drew the net for the 
minnows he used for bait. As for Grant and Meade, 
those inquisitive youngsters kept track of every- 
thing that was going on at Casa Valetta, and were 
especially interested in the big ice-cream freezer, 
which the turbaned black cook was sometimes seen 
solemnly turning on the back porch. Many were 
the conjectures as to whether the contents were 
flavored with lemon or vanilla, strawberry or 
chocolate. 

“That’s the fifth time that the little fellow has 
tried to jump into the water,” said Grant to Meade, 
referring to the fluffy poodle’s efforts. “ If I was in 


12 


. ISLAND PATTY 


that French woman’s place Pel let him go! He 
wouldn’t want to try it again! Say, Patty, that 
poodle would make a splendid mop, wouldn’t he?” 

But Patty did not reply; she was staring hard at 
a new occupant of the boat. It was some one she 
had never seen before. In the stern sat a slender 
figure clad in a navy-blue suit, with a jaunty sailor- 
hat perched upon curls of red gold. The slanting 
rays of the sun sent a pink flush over a pale, sweet 
face, l)ringing out strong, noble lines, marking honor, 
truth and culture. 

Patty Graham drew a long breath and pressed 
her lips together in a thin scarlet line. Instinctively 
there came to her a recognition of the difference 
between herself and this young girl. 

She looked down at her faded calico dress and bare 
feet; it had been too warm that day to wear shoes, 
especially while at her task of ironing. Now she 
wished that she had worn them, for the frolicsome 
breeze hurrying down from the Narrows fluttered 
her skirts, revealing ankles tanned and sun-burnt. 
The same wind blew her hair into a rough, unkempt 
mass. 

However, she was not more disreputable looking 
than the rest of the family, if that was any consola- 
tion. Never had the twins looked more ragged and 
dirty; the patch on Joe’s trousers had ripped loose 
and flapped in the breeze like a diminutive casement 
window; Dick’s face was gory with berry stains, and 
there was only one lonely agate button on Tom’s 
blue shirt. 

The only presentable garment was Retta’s dress — 


ISLAND PATTY 


13 


a new pink calico with ruffled skirt. Patty had 
scolded because Retta put it on that morning, but 
now her soul rejoiced because of this bit of respect- 
ability. 

“ I guess that girl sitting there in the stern is the 
Judge’s niece,” said Retta, with an important air. 
‘‘I heard Mrs. Mahoney say so; she has been over 
at Casa Valetta mopping and cleaning and sweeping 
down eel-flies. She said that she had to clean the 
little tower-room especially well, because the Judge 
wrote that Miss Doris was coming. She’s just like 
a daughter to them. They adojjted her years ago. 
The reason she hasn’t been here summers is because 
she spent her vacation with her own parents. The 
rest of the year she’s been away at a fashionable 
boarding-school. Oh, my! I just wish some rich 
folks ’d adopt me and dress me up nice.” And 
Retta smoothed down the freshly-ironed folds of her 
pretty pink gown, sighing dolefully as she did so 
because the material was not the rich silk of her 
fertile imagination. 

“She seems like a nice girl,” said Patty “I 
kind of like her face — don’t you. Ret? Not stuck- 
up looking. She isn’t much older than I am.” 

“But lots more style about her!” said Retta, with 
an aggravating laugh. “I must say you do look 
like a witch, Patty!” 

“You oughtn’t to say that, Retta!” Tom ex- 
claimed, spiritedly. “You’re the one who always 
has the good clothes, if there are any good clothes 
to be had. Patty has to have the rag-tag and bob- 
tail of everything. That pink calico you’ve got on 


14 


ISLAND PATTY 


now, Retta, was some pa brought home for Patty, 
and you took it!” 

Whereupon Retta promptly slapped him, and a 
prolonged wail resounded far over the waters of the 
St. Lawrence. 

Patty’s tanned cheeks took on a deeper tinge of 
red, and her eyes Hashed. 

“For shame. Ret! to have a fuss now, right in 
sight and hearing of the Judge’s folks! They’ll 
think we’re perfect savages; and I suppose we are,” 
she added, in a low, sullen tone. 

With a flirt of her pink skirts, Retta replied, 
“Well, I shan’t take sauce from anybody! Some- 
how Tom and the rest of ’em are always sticking 
up for you — ” 

“ ’Cause we like Patty better!” the twins inter- 
rupted, in a sturdy duet, and Tom paused in his 
weeping long enough to say emphatically, “That’s 
so!” 

Patty bestowed an appreciative pat upon the 
tousled heads nearest her and then turned to watch 
the occupants of the boat. 

The swift current bore the latter near the upper 
point of Minnow Island, and it was with considerable 
difficulty that Ben Graham kept the bow pointed 
toward the little inlet at the head of which stood the 
Judge’s fine boat-house, fresh with olive and red 
paint, and looking like a Chinese pagoda. 

The breeze had increased; the water was becom- 
ing choppy and the waves wore white caps. The 
Judge’s two hundred pounds were no inconsiderable 
weight in the boat, and with the three women 


ISLAND PATTY 


15 


and the oarsman, bore it down close to the 
water’s edge. 

The poodle’s antics kept the Frenchwoman busy, 
and her nervous movements rocked the heavily- 
laden skiff. 

“Sit still, if there’s any sit to you!” growled Ben 
(Iraham, with a frown that included both poodle 
and maid. But all unheeding, the former gave 
another spring forward — his little black nose nearly 
touched the dancing spray. Mademoiselle Celeste 
made a grab for him, uttering shrilly, 

“ Helas! malhcureusement! ” 

The boat tipped suddenly, and over went — not 
the irrepressible poodle, but instead a heap of navy- 
blue flannel. Pretty, delicate Doris Leonard sank 
beneath the waves! 

Confusion reigned; the Judge forgot his dignity 
and shouted lustily for help; his wife fainted away; 
Celeste made sky and water ring with mingled 
English and French exclamations; the poodle 
barked wildly as if in intense enjoyment of the 
whole affair. 

As for- Ben Graham, lazy and shiftless though he 
might be, he was no coward. He placed the oars on 
the outriggers, jerked off his heavy boots, and was 
just drawing off his coat preparatory to jumping 
in after the unfortunate girl, when — 

‘‘ Rcgardez! voila!” shrieked the maid, and there 
was a sudden splash in the water by Minnow Island, 
the glimpse of bare, tanned limbs, a faded blue 
skirt, and a mass of tangled hair pushed back from 
a flushed and earnest face. 

Patty Graham had leaped into the water! 


16 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER II. 


From the time that Patty Graham could toddle 
alone she had taken to the water like a duck. At 
three years old she had waded into the shallow 
places among the little inlets of Minnow Island, and, 
holding her worn gingham skirts above her dimpled 
knees, had thrust out pink toes over the yellow 
sand and many-colored pebbles at the bottom of the 
cool, clear water, going farther and farther out each 
time. At five years she could swim fairly well; at 
ten she could beat her brother’s record, and even 
her father had to look out for his laurels! She 
could dive and duck, tread water, swim on her back 
or either side, and stay under water longer than 
many an oarsman of the river. In short, the St. 
Lawrence was for her a grand, big bath-tub, a place 
in which to have fine frolics. 

When Ben Graham saw his daughter plunge into 
the water to rescue the Judge’s niece, his face 
expressed less concern than paternal pride, and 
taking the oars again, he plied them with unwonted 
energy, saying earnestly: 

“Sit still. Judge!” and to the maid, “Sit still. Miss 
Parlez-vous — you and that fluffy cur have done 
enough mischief! Don’t worry — any of you! IMiss 


ISLAND PATTY 


17 


Parlez-vous, slap a leetle water on the madam’s 
face — that’ll bring her to! My Patty’ll save the 
girl all right, and no harm but the wetting of the 
clothes of both of ’em!” 

By this time Doris had risen to the surface. With 
one hand Patty seized her bright hair, and with the 
other made swift, bold strokes toward the boat. A 
moment of breathless suspense, and then out from 
the glassy, blue-green waters and foam-flecked 
eddies Patty held up her dripping burden to the 
eager outstretched arms of the occupants of the 
boat. 

Mrs. Leonard, just recovering from one fainting 
fit, nearly went into another when she saw Doris’ 
ghastly face framed in wet hair like melting gold; 
the French woman gave another shriek, and the 
Judge, with pallid face, exclaimed, ‘‘Oh, she’s dead!” 

“Oil, no, sir!” gasped Patty, as with one wet, 
])ink hand resting upon the edge of the boat she 
paused to get breath after her exertions, “she’s not 
dead — she didn’t go down but once. But she needs 
to have her wet clothing taken off and be wrapped 
in warm blankets.” 

“Got any fire at home, Patty?” Ben Graham 
inquired. 

“Yes, sir. Been ironing and baking beans; the 
stove was piping hot a iew minutes ago.” 

“We’re nearer our island than yours, sir,” said 
Ben Graham, addressing the Judge. “Your niece 
is all right — not a doubt of that — but she looks kind 
of delicate, and perhaps we’d better get her dry and 
warm as soon’s we can ; so s’pose we take her to our 



“OH^ NO. sir!” gasped patty, “she’s not dead.” 



ISLAND PATTY 


19 


place? We’re poor folks, as you know, sir, and our 
belongings are no great shakes, but you’re welcome 
to all we’ve got on Minnow Island.” 

“Thank you — thank you, Graham,” said the 
Judge, huskil}^ “I will remember your kindness. 
As you say, I think we had better give my niece 
speedy attention. A minute more or less may be 
the turning-point for her, poor girl! And she’s 
gone through so much the i^ast year! It seems 
dreadful that she should have this happen to her 
just now, when she was beginning to show some- 
thing like recovery.” 

“There doesn’t seem to be a bit of life in her!” 
moaned Mrs. Leonard, as she rubbed the white 
hands. 

“Oh, yes, there is; cheer up, ma’am; cheer up!” 
exclaimed Ben Graham, and he fell to rowing 
lustily, as Patty, relinquishing her hold on the boat, 
swam away with vigorous strokes for the shore. 
While the boat was yet many lengths away, she was 
climbing upon the dock at Minnow Island. 

Her face was flushed with excitement, caused not 
so much by the past occurrence as by the expected 
event. 

“To think of Judge Leonard’s folks coming to 
our house!” she exclaimed, as, with a hasty gesture, 
she shook the water from her dripping garments 
and ran up the rocky path leading to the house. 

Her feelings were divided by a glow of generous 
hospitality inherent to her nature and a blush of 
shame at the poverty and disorder of her home. 
Never before had things seemed so shabby! 


20 


ISLAND PATTY 


The fire was still burning briskly in the kitchen 
stove ; one of the covers was red hot. The tea-kettle, 
filled with water for washing the long-neglected 
dinner dishes, was puffing out coils of white steam 
from its dingy spout. 

Patty rushed into the down-stairs bedroom; it 
was the one spare room, and the bed with its belong- 
ings was clean, though old-fashioned. She gave 
a sigh of relief that things looked better than she 
had expected. Then she hurried to her own cham- 
ber, slipped off her wet skirt and waist, and hastily 
twisted up her dripping hair. 

“ Retta,” she exclaimed to her sister, who had 
followed her about, firing a volley of questions, 
“ Retta, do hurry and help me to get things to rights! 
The Judge and his folks dl be here in a minute or 
two, and that — that poor girl — ” 

“Why don’t they take her to their own island?” 
Retta interrupted, crossly. “It wouldn’t have 
taken five minutes more. I don’t like the idea of 
those stuck up folks coming here and sneering at 
everything we’ve got!” and Retta deposited herself 
in the rocking-chair and began to rock vigorously, 
scowling meanwhile at everything in the room, 
excepting her own pretty reflection, as seen in 
Patty’s little looking-glass with its dingy gilt 
frame. 

Patty’s wrath waxed hot. 

“Retta Graham! aren’t you ashamed of yourself! 
When folks are almost drowned, it’s no time to 
think about style! Folks have got to do things 
quickly. You know when little Toby Denner fell 


ISLAND PATTY 


21 


off the sailboat, that they said if they could have 
gotten him warm sooner he might have lived — the 
shock and chill killed him more than the water. 
Minnow Island is nearer than Casa Valetta, and 
weVe got fire and hot water and a clean, warm bed. 
Of course, there’s no style or grand things — but we 
can’t help that — and the Judge and his wife are too 
scared to notice much. Yet you know I want 
things decent; so do stop that everlasting rocking, 
Ret, and try to do something! Take those clothes 
into pa’s bedroom, can’t you?” 

Still scowling, Retta took the clothes-horse filled 
with freshly-ironed garments which Patty had placed 
in the spare room, and set it with a bang in the 
adjoining apartment. Then she took her Sunday 
hat, which for the entire week had dangled from a 
chair-back, smoothed its tumbled feathers, and laid 
it on the closet shelf; the twin’s new and shining 
rubbers were taken from the window-ledge, also a 
bottle of shoe-blacking and a vase filled with faded 
daisies and clover tufts. 

Patty meanwhile had hurried to the door to meet 
the procession filing up the path. 

First came the Judge carrying his niece, her head 
and neck drooping over his shoulder, making one 
think of a broken lily. The water dripped from her 
yellow hair and the hem of her blue gown. Next 
came Ben Graham clumsily but carefully assisting 
Mrs. Leonard; after them the maid and the poodle, 
both, for a wonder, silent and dejected. 

The twins. Grant and Meade, round-eyed and 
visibly impressed by the importance of the occasion. 


22 


ISLAND PATTY 


brought up the rear, the rest of the boys having 
remained to tie the boat. 

Patty gave one brief, hesitating glance, then 
threw open the door. Her cheeks were flushed, her 
fingers trembled as they clutched the door-knob. 
Never before had she been called upon to play the 
part of hostess on so important an occasion. She 
felt unequal to the task and turned a half-a})i)ealing 
glance toward her sister — Retta of the respectable 
frock. 

Patty’s qualms were unnecessary. The Judge 
and his wife were too filled with concern for their 
niece to notice the poverty of the little house. It 
was only the maid, who, holding her head very high 
and drawing the draperies of her trim little body 
around her, whispered to the poodle, Bijou, man 
'petit! what a wretched abode to which to carry the 
body of Mademoiselle Doris! Eh, bien! It matters 
little to her, pauvre ange — she is dead, doubtless!” 

But Doris was not dead; she had been in water so 
short a time that with the speedy assistance given 
her it was not long before she opened her eyes and 
stirred uneasily in the warm blankets wrapping her 
like the folds of a cocoon. The first thing her be- 
wildered eyes rested on was a motto hung on the 
wall at the foot of the bed. It was one that Patty 
had found over at the Park, thrown out in a heap of 
rubbish in the backyard of a cottage, the verandas 
of which her father had been hired to j)aint, for he 
was a jack-of-all-trades. The motto was on j^erfo- 
rated board, worked in red and green worsted, and 
the words, “God is Love.” 


ISLAND PATTY 


23 


For an instant Doris fancied herself back at a 
memorable scene in her own life. It was in a church, 
and she and her young companions were arranging 
Christmas garlands around a similar text. She had 
fallen from the tall step-ladder, been seriously in- 
jured, and from that time to this pain and sadness 
had been her portion. But now, as consciousness 
came more fully and her gaze wandered to objects 
around her, she realized that she was in an unfamil- 
iar place. Then, as her eyes rested upon Patty, who, 
with toil-worn fingers, stood nervously twisting the 
hem of her gingham apron, her face grave with 
apprehension, Doris spoke in a weak, quavering 
voice : 

“ Why, that’s the girl I saw on the island just as 
we were coming to Casa Valetta!” and immedi- 
ately, as if revealed by a flash of light, the memory 
of the recent accident came to her! She felt anew 
the horrible sensation of pitching headlong into the 
water — the cold embrace of the waves; the going 
down — down — down into the crystal-clear, blue- 
green de{)ths among the tall, fern-like eel grass. 

She uttered a little cry and all gathered around 
her, their faces glowing with gladness and their voices 
thrilling with thanksgiving that she was still alive. 

A half-hour later she was strong enough to be 
carried, wrapped in blankets, down to the shore, 
into the boat and over to Casa \haletta, whose many 
windows flashed out a welcome — red-gold in the 
last rays of the sun. 

But before she left the little cottage she said to 


24 


ISLAND PATTY 


Patty, who brought her a drink of hot milk in the 
only china cup belonging to the Grahams. 

“I want to say something to you, you dear 
girl! Only I am too weak now to talk much; but I 
must thank you for what you did — you risked your 
life to save mine — and I a stranger to you!” 

“That was nothing,” said Patty, heartily. “I 
take a swim almost every day in summer, and don’t 
mind a plunge in the river; and, anyhow, pa would 
have jumped in and saved you if I hadn’t.” 

“And it was God who sent me help in time of 
need,” rejoined Doris, soberly. “I feel very thank- 
ful to him, too. You see, I have been sick the past 
year; I have suffered so much, and, well” — lower- 
ing her voice to a little confidential tone — “there 
have been times when I really thought I wanted to 
die! But when death threatened me so suddenly 
to-day I realized how wicked and rebellious I had 
been. Oh, I thought of lots of things when I was 
down under the water! I feel now that my life has 
been given back to me, and I want to make some- 
thing of it. I have — but there, I mustn’t keep 
uncle waiting. Give me the milk, please, and I’ll 
drink it. Hoav nice it tastes! You’re ver}" kind. 
There, they’re coming to carry me down to the boat. 
Kiss me — Patty, didn’t you say your name was — 
and we’ll be real good friends ever after this. Good- 
by!” 

Patty stood a long time down on the shore, Avatch- 
ing the boat on its course across the rul)y-tinted 
Avaters. She stayed there until Retta called out 
crossly from the doorAvay of the cottage! 


ISLAND PATTY 


25 


“ Patty! for goodness’ sake! are we going to have 
any supper to-night? The boys are mussing up the 
pantry shelf, cutting bread and butter for them- 
selves!” 

Patty turned and ran up the path. Her face 
glowed with something besides the sunset. 

“I’ve got a friend — a real girl-friend — now!” she 
whispered to herself, and then she smiled as she 
remembered Doris’s arms around her neck and the 
loving kiss given her. 


26 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER III. 


The interval between the winter’s day when the 
accident resulting in Doris Leonard’s invalidism 
had occurred, and the beautiful June day when she 
came to Casa Valetta, had been marked by suc- 
cessive stages in the girl’s thoughts and feelings. 
At first, indifference to all outward things, because 
of physical pain and weakness; then a torturing 
anxiety for the future, and presently a dull apathy, 
which, more than anything else, retarded her re- 
covery. 

The beginning of her Christian career had been 
so joyous! Filled with youthful enthusiasm, she 
had been glad to throw time, money, and happy 
zeal into every good cause claiming her attention. 
Like many other young converts, she was desirous 
of doing great things for the cause of Christ, and 
quite forgetting that, after all, it is the little things 
which build up the kingdom of God in both church 
and character. 

But now she was being tried in the furnace of 
affliction, and well was it that at last in her weak- 
ness she turned for help to Him who has ju’omised 
to sustain and comfort his own. 8he read her 
Bible much, and once, looking u]:> with her face full 
of gladness, she exclaimed to Mrs. Leonard, 

“ Why, auntie, the whole Bible seems to be writ- 


ISLAND PATTY 


27 


ten for folks who are sick in mind or body! I al- 
ways looked upon it as a sort of guide-book — some- 
thing to teach us the way wherein to walk; but 
truly ‘ its leaves are for the healing of the nations!’ ” 

Mrs. Leonard leaned over and kissed the briglit 
face. She and her husband had learned much 
during Doris’s illness. Social standing, worldly 
culture, money, and the pride of birth and breeding 
stand for little in the face of sickness, pain and 
death ! 

The dread of losing the young girl who was so 
much to them, the seeing how ])atiently she bore 
her trouble, her humble efforts to lean upon a 
Higher Power, anfl her sincere humiliation when, 
in moments of weakness, she rebelled at her lot — all 
these things were teaching the Judge and his wife 
that true religion is more than a mere name. 

Perhaj)S Doris’s first active interest in things ex- 
ternal was aroused on the June day she came so near 
drowning. As was natural, her thoughts dwelt 
upon the one who, through God’s mercy, was the 
means of rescuing her — Patty Graham. And, as 
we have seen, the magnetism of her warm, win- 
some nature had drawn Patty to her. 

But the latter had the shyness born of pride. 
Several days passed ere she could muster up enough 
courage to accept any of the urgent invitations for 
her to visit Casa Valetta. She felt ashamed of her- 
self and her clothes. She was too proud to show by 
contrast her inferiority in dress, speech and manners. 

Retta, with a confidence born of the consciousness 
of a new dimity frock, a pair of tan shoes, to say 


28 


ISLAND PATTY 


nothing of a new hat gay with the biggest red roses 
that the milliner’s shop in Clayton could furnish — 
all of which articles had been purchased by the gen- 
erous sum paid Ben Graham for rowing the Judge 
and his household on that eventful afternoon — had 
called at Casa Valetta twice. And she was en- 
abled to describe, to the minutest detail, the fur- 
nishing of the house. 

“Of course, it’s only their summer home, and I 
suppose that in the city they have things much 
grander. But my! it’s grand enough! There isn’t 
a cottage at the Park as nice as theirs. The floors 
are hard wood, and shine, and if you ain’t careful 
you’ll slip on them! And there are soft rugs here 
and there — some green and mossy, and others a 
queer but pretty color — sort of a brownish pink — 
‘terror got to,’ Mrs. Leonard called it. ” 

“I guess you mean ‘terra-cotta,’ ” Patty giggled. 

“Well, I don’t care what it was — it was pretty! 
And you ought to see Miss Doris’s room! It’s in 
the tower part and it’s eight-sided. It is painted 
white and gold, and from three of the windows 
you can see up and down the river. Her wall- 
paper is pale blue and her rugs are white fur — 
seems like stepping on a pussy-cat to walk on ’em. 
Her bedstead is brass — shines like gold — and it’s 
got a thing hanging over it — ‘a canopy,’ Miss 
Doris called it — lace, with blue satin under it. 
She’s got an eiderdown quilt, blue silk with little 
])ink rosebuds scattered over it. She’s got willow 
chairs all trimmed with ribbon bows, and a big 
couch just i)acked with pillows all of pale blue and 


ISLAND PATTY 


29 


pink satin, and soft cool linen ones embroidered 
with ferns and lilies. And do you know, her 
dresser is almost like a tea-table, there are so 
many silver and cut-glass toilet articles on it. 

“ She’s got a dear little bird — a canary trained in 
Germany — and an Angora cat, and the poodle that 
capered so in the boat that day. As for books — 
my! there are lots of them! You’d like those, 
wouldn’t you, Pat? — and the pictures, too. I 
don’t care about those, but I did want to peep into 
her wardrobe to see her dresses; but the door was 
shut. She had on the loveliest wrapper — a little 
pink stripe in it, and a jacket of white with soft 
hirry stuff around the neck and wrists. And Miss 
Doris was just as sweet as she could be. Mrs. 
Leonard was kind, too, and she made the waitress 
bring some cake and ice-cream — two kinds, choco- 
late and vanilla — shaped in little cones. I was 
ashamed to see the way Joe and Dick gobbled 
theirs! They just cleared the plate of cake, too! 
Otherwise I would have smuggled you home a piece 
in my handkerchief,” Retta ended, with unwonted 
consideration. “But,” she added, thoughtfully, 
“ perhaps you’ll get some to-morrow, for they want 
you to come over, sure. Miss Doris sent a note on 
purpose.” 

The note was so cordially written that Patty de- 
termined to accept the invitation contained therein. 
Accordingly on the following afternoon, when the 
work w^as all done up, and Retta and the boys, under 
the guardianship of their fatlier, had taken passage 
on the “New Island Wanderer” for a trip down 


30 


ISLAND PATTY 


Alexandria Bay, with the expectation of an un- 
limited siipjdy of peanuts and popcorn during the 
voyage — all of which, trip and refreshments, were 
to be paid for from the rapidly decreasing balance 
of the Judge’s money aforementioned — Patty, 
with her face washed as clean as a dew-drenched 
rose, started out to pay this important visit. 

Of course she wore her best — such as it was. 
Her plump little body was encased in her old 
white gown, freshly starched and ironed, and crisp 
to its very ruffles; there was a little blue girdle 
around her waist, and on her head was her old brown 
straw hat, freshened up by a bunch of new daisies. 
She went through the needless ceremony of shutting 
the window-blinds and locking the door, then, 
getting into her little skiff, rowed rapidly away. 

It was a June day. If Patty had ever read Lowell, 
doubtless she would have quoted to herself, 

“ And what is so rare as a day in June! 

Then, if ever, come perfect days.” 

But Patty had never even heard of Lowell. How- 
ever, there was poetry in her soul, heaven- 
given, and she felt impressed by the beauty around 
her. 

The sun shone down warm and bright, the air was 
filled with its golden light, and the water sparkled 
with a million reflections. The great river leaped 
and ran — itself a page of history, did one but think 
of it! — a page upon which one might read the 
events of the past. The eyes of the mind could 
see the primitive canoes of the redskins paddled 
over the glittering sheet; then came the bateaux of 


ISLAND PATTY 


31 


the Jesuit fathers impelled by a mighty purpose 
behind them — the purpose of carrying the Cross of 
Christ into the wilderness, even though that purpose 
entailed torture and death. 

The gay song of some half-breed voyageur echoed 
across the tossing waves or rang out from some 
green isle — French chansons, maybe, as the black- 
eyed soldiers of doughty Count de Frontcnac swept 
with swift oars down the river. After them came 
the fair-faced Saxons, the conquerors of Quebec, 
above whose ramparts now waved the royal banner 
of England. Indians, missionaries, hunters, trap- 
pers, soldiers and pioneers — the St. Lawrence had 
been the watery highway for them all. 

But Patty knew little about these things. She 
knew no more of history than of poetry — thereby 
being spared much j)ain as well as pleasure. 

What she was thinking about now was not the 
past pictures of the St. Lawrence, the green waters 
of which the bow of her little skiff was smiting amid 
a shower of jewelled spray — for the day, though 
bright, was breezy, and the water was rough — but 
the fact that she was going to make a ceremonial 
call, the first of her experience. 

As the distance lessened between her boat and the 
gray stone coping of Valetta Island, bordered by 
its gay parterres of flowers, she grew more shy, and 
felt half-impelled to turn the skiff homeward. But 
that would be cowardly, and, as we know, Patty 
was no coward. 

“I hope they have no company there,” she said 
to herself. “They did yesterday — some folks from 


32 


ISLAND PATTY 


Calumet Island. They were ladies who came to 
call on Mrs. Leonard. Oh dear! Pm a little afraid 
of Mrs. Leonard herself. She makes me think of 
Queen Victoria — that is, she looks like the pictures 
of her! Her gown has a trail and rustles with 
a soft swish when she walks. She’s real nice 
and kind, but — well, I’d rather sec Miss Doris 
alone.” 

Doris was alone. When Patty fastened the boat 
at the dock, she glanced up toward the grove of 
wide-sweeping willows, and there, dangling like a 
huge red and yellow cocoon between two of the trees, 
was a hammock, from the edge of which rippled a 
pinl: dimity gown and a pair of bronze slippers 
with dainty rosettes. 

The slippers sprang to the moss beneath as Patty 
slowly approached, and Doris’s radiant face ap- 
peared, as with outstretched hands and a gay voice 
she gave her so cordial a welcome that Patty’s 
timidity vanished like ice beneath a genial sun; and 
scarcely a quarter of an hour had ]>assed, ere she and 
her young hostess both sat in the hammock swing- 
ing lazily to and fro, nibbling luscious marshmallows 
and chattering as only girls can. 

And before she hardly knew it, Patty was telling 
of her life on the island; of the happy summers, 
warm and pleasant — only for the hard work and 
scanty fare! then of the winters, so long and 
dreary, when the Frost King came down on his steed 
the North-Wind, and the great river grew gray with 
ice, and the numerous islands were snow-mounds, 
small and great, their whiteness broken by 


ISLAND PATTY 


33 


the dark evergreens growing out from rocky 
crevices. 

“ It is awfully lonesome then, when night comes, 
and it seems to come so early on winter days,'’ said 
Patty. “ Perhaps, too, there’ll be a snowstorm ; the 
wind howls, and oh! the river has such a different 
sound from what it has in summer — it seems to 
fret and chafe its shores. Then, when it freezes up 
— why, then there is an utter silence — such a silence ! 
It makes one feel doubly lonesome. On Sunday 
mornings, though, we have the pleasure of hearing 
the church bells over at Clayton.* We can hear 
them real plainly if the wind is in the right 
direction.” 

“Can’t you go to church and Sabbath-school?” 
said Doris, with a bright little glance. 

Patty looked down. 

“ I suppose we could if we really tried,” she said 
slowly. “ But we never got into the habit. Pa 
never spoke about our going. I guess he likes to 
smoke and sleep on Sunday; he’s boating and fish- 
ing on other days, and ice-cutting in winter. But I 
did go to church once,” and Patty straightened her- 
self up with an important air. “It was over at the 
Park — in the big Tabernacle, you know. There was 
a lady I did some washing for, and she wanted me to 
help her take care of her two children a couple of 
days while her maid was sick. I had a nice time. 
She was real kind. I enjoyed the church-going. 
There was grand singing, and the preacher was from 
away off — New York or Philadelphia.” 

“Do you remember anything he said?” Doris 


34 


ISLAND PATTY 


asked, curious to know whether this one privilege 
had been attended with any good results. 

Patty looked thoughtfully at a bat-wing sailboat 
far out on the river, a mere white fleck against the 
blue, sunlit waters. “ Yes,’’ she said slowly. “ He 
told a story. It was about a little girl who was sent 
on some errand, and she was obliged to go through a 
deep, dark woods, which she dreaded very much. 
Put she dreaded far more a certain j:»lace on the 
other side of the woods where the folks kept a dog — 
a great ugly creature, ready to growl fiercely and to 
spring out upon the j^assers-by. Well, she got 
through the woods all right and past the dog with- 
out his paying any attention to her. She did her 
errand and started to go home, and, though the dog 
had not troubled her the first time she jiassed him, 
she was sure that he would on her return. Her 
limbs trembled, and her heart was in her throat. 
She ran by as fast as she could, and soon came to the 
edge of the woods. Just then, in the dim moonlight 
— for it was night, you know — she caught sight of an 
animal lurking among the trees. She was sure that 
it was the dog. 

“ She dropped on her knees, so weak from fear was 
she, and the animal came creeping toward her. He 
acted very strange, and suddenly she knew that it 
was no dog at all, but a panther! 

“ She covered her face with her hands, shuddering, 
and just then, with great strong leaps, something 
dashed by her and boldly sprang on the panther. 
It was the very dog she had so feared, and now it 
was he who came to her rescue. Over and over the 


ISLAND PATTY 


35 


animals tumbled, snarling and snapping, barking 
and biting, but at last the panther lay silent upon 
the brown leaves, while the brave dog trotted to the 
girl’s side and with kindly eyes looked at her. His 
body was covered with ugly scratches and bleeding 
wounds. And she put her arms around his shaggy 
neck and kissed him, and then he persisted in follow- 
ing her home, her faithful protector. And the 
preacher went on to say that sometimes the trouble 
we most dread turns out to be the very best thing 
for us. He talked about it a great deal. I liked the 
story, but I don’t know that I quite understood just 
what he meant.” 

“ I think I do,” and there was a sweet earnestness 
in Doris’s face. “ I can take the lesson home to 
myself. I’ve dreaded sickness and pain and the 
thought of being an invalid. It seemed as though I 
could not endure it! But I have, and I have also 
learned to be patient and to trust. I have had time 
to think of a great many things. I have learned to 
appreciate my past blessings of health and strength, 
and have learned to have sympathy for those who 
are in pain and sad and discouraged.” 

Patty was silent. She had never heard such talk 
before, and she hardly knew what to make of it. 
Then, after a little pause, she said slowly and with 
downcast head, 

“ I’m sure I shouldn’t like to be sick or be an in- 
valid. I think it must be hard to endure — harder 
than even the things I have to bother me,” with a 
little bitterness. 

“And do you have troubles, dear?” Doris asked 


36 


ISLAND PATTY. 


gently, taking Patty’s tanned hand in her own frail 
white fingers. 

For an instant Patty hesitated. Who was this 
stranger that she should meddle in affairs that did 
not concern her? But one glance into the loving 
eyes bent upon her, and Patty’s heart was opened 
and her tongue loosened. She told of the hard 
struggles for bare existence on Minnow Island; of 
the freezing cold that crept through every crack and 
cranny of the old, weather-beaten house; of the snow 
that, beating in through the leaking roof, lay like 
cards of white wool upon her bed in the little loft; 
she told of the monotonous diet of salt fish, potatoes 
and cabbage; of the lack of sufficient fuel and of the 
scanty bedding. Then how tired she was some- 
times, how weary of the everlasting cooking, clean- 
ing and mending! There were the squabbles be- 
tween the boys, and Retta’s selfishness. 

Then she told something she had never before 
broached to anybody. It was her own secret long- 
ing to leave the island and go out into the wide 
world, and, as she herself expressed it, “ to learn to 
be somebody.” And as she continued, growing 
almost eloquent over her stifled ambitions, Doris’s 
face glowed with sympathy and with a new-born 
impulse. 

“And you are so fond of books and pictures, 
Patty? Oh, I have a plan — the very loveliest plan! 
Why can’t you come over here, let us say three or 
four times a week, and we will read and draw and 
study together! I’ll help you to the very best of 
my ability!” 



ISLAND PATTY 37 


plan!” 


‘Y HAVE A PLAN — THE LOVELIEST 


38 


ISLAND PATTY 


Patty’s eyes grew wide with wonder and joy. 

“Do you really mean it, Miss Doris?” Then, 
almost solemnly, “ Why, it seems almost too good to 
be true — that I am to have a chance!” 


ISLAND PATTY 


39 


CHAPTER IV. 


The very beginning was the clean tablecloth. No, 
that wasn’t the first beginning of Patty’s attempts 
toward improving things at Minnow xsland. The 
first thing was her keeping her promise to Doris, and 
finding the old dusty Bible tucked on the top shelf 
of the closet and taking it to her room for “five 
minutes’ reading every morning.” 

To be sure, there were some difficulties in the way 
of doing this. Dick and Joe were having a pillow 
fight; the walls of the cottage jarred and shook with 
their vigorous leaps and tumbles. Then the twins 
were whispering and giggling under a humpy and 
very shaky tent made from one of the sheets of their 
cot; while Retta, who sat half-dressed at the foot of 
the bed in Patty’s own room, frizzed her hair over a 
lighted lamp, making the air redolent with burnt 
hair. 

In the midst of all this Patty, like an earnest little 
bee, tried to gather a little honey from the sweetness 
of the “Sermon on the Mount.” 

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be 
called the children of God,” she crooned softly to 
herself. 

Then she paused; the noise in the adjoining room 
had increased to an uproar, and Joe’s voice was 
heard in pain and wrath. 


40 


ISLAND PATTY 


“Boys!’' she called out, admonishingly, “come 
here, please.” 

Two heads almost as frowzy as Retta’s appeared 
in the doorway. 

“ He punched me in the eye!” blubbered Joe. 

“I didn’t mean to,” said Dick, with a grin that 
belied his words. “ Anyhow, he was tryin’ to stuff 
the whole pillow in my mouth !” 

“Well, stop quarreling, dearies,” said Patty, with 
such unwonted tenderness that Joe winked with his 
sound eye, and his brother’s grin was in danger of 
extending to behind his ears. 

Patty took them by the hand and drew them 
close to her. 

“I have been thinking,” she began softly, “how 
nice it would be if we read every day a little in this 
book.” 

“Is that the ‘Joseph book’? ” Joe broke in. One 
memorable day long ago — when he had the measles 
— Patty had read the story of the Hebrew lad and 
his brethren. 

“ Yes, it’s the ‘Joseph book,’ and there are lots of 
other beautiful stories in it — about Abraham and 
Jacob and David and Paul. Besides, it’s God’s 
Book, and tells us all about him and his Son, the 
Saviour who died for us.” 

Patty’s voice was filled wdth sw^eet gravity as she 
proceeded, for it suddenly came to her how 
beautiful the wonderful story of old was, and how 
neglectful she had been in the past in not 
telling her little brothers of these things. This 
was just as much her duty as were the cooking. 


ISLAND PATTY 


41 


scrubbing, darning and mending — aye, as much 
more as the soul is of more importance than the 
body. 

So she gathered them close to her. The twins 
crawled out from their white encampment in the cot; 
Retta, half-petulant, half-amused, blew out the 
smoky lamp and laid down her curling iron. And 
in a clear voice Patty read of the coming of Christ 
as a little Babe; of the Wise Men and the Star, and 
the wondrous beginning of “joy upon earth, and 
peace, good-will toward men.” 

As she read, a strange happiness came into her 
own soul. As with older followers of the Master, 
the giving unto others brought rich gifts to herself. 
The waters leaping up from the fountain fell back 
sun-brightened and purified into their basin again. 

I do not know but what the boys were just as 
noisy as ever after the reading of the chapter and 
the little prayer which followed it, as Patty, In 
broken and hesitating tones, said, “ Oh, Lord ! help 
us children to love thee and to be kind to one an- 
other, to get over being selfish and cross, and teach 
us more of thee. We are ignorant and helpless and 
sometimes like to do naughty things, but do give us 
strength wdien w'e are tempted. And be sure to 
take us all to heaven when w^e die. For the dear 
Christ’s sake. Amen!” 

The boys ran away to their room t'^ dress, but 
one; by one crept back to kiss Patty -lyly. Retta 
continued her frizzing, but the peevLa look had dis- 
appeared from her face, and, for a wonder, she 
shook up all the beds and put the bedding to air 


42 


ISLAND PATTY 


before she came down — which was a duty that 
had hitherto fallen on Patty. 

But I believe we began our chapter with an allu- 
sion to the clean tablecloth. Patty put one on 
that morning. 

“ It seems nice to begin the day sweet and clean,” 
she said. ‘‘ How pleasant the morning sun looks 
streaming in through the windows; Pm glad I 
washed them yesterday; they shine like clear, 
cheery eyes!” 

She whipped off the faded red tablecloth that 
looked like a big geographical map, with coffee 
stains representing oceans and lakes, lumps of cold 
potatoes for mountain-ranges, dabs of eggs for 
islands, and the entire country of — let us say — 
grease! 

So the white cloth with crisp creases was jiut on, 
and the plates, knives and forks arranged in an 
orderly way. Patty had had a glimpse of the din- 
ing-room at Casa Valetta, and the table there had 
made a novel sensation. She rubbed the tumblers 
until they shone as clear as crystal; she hunted up 
the carving-knife and scoured it — never mind if it 
was going to be used only on slices of liver! She 
fried that liver in the very nicest way. Instead of 
humpy, irregular slices, slapped hastily into a spider 
and dished up in a half-burnt, half-raw state, she 
made the slices even, rolled them in flour, and 
watched them until they were a light, crisp brown. 
Then there were baked potatoes, corn bread, coffee, 
and a great dish of luscious berries gathered from 
the rocky hill in the western part of Minnow Island. 


ISLAND PATTY 


43 


And the fresh air of the St. Lawrence was enough 
to make anybody enjoy such fare. 

Retta, who must be credited with loving all 
pretty things, ran out, and, scrambling among the 
undergrowth at the edge of the grove, brought back a 
huge bouquet of wild roses, carmine-tipped, with pale 
pink hearts. The very dew on them seemed fragrant. 

Ben Graham came up from the little inlet where 
he had been drawing the seine for minnow-bait to 
sell to gentlemen fishers at the Park. He gave one 
glance at the inviting table, another at his fishy- 
smelling hands and slimy overalls, then, with a pro- 
longed whistle, made a dive into his bedroom, from 
which he presently emerged with clean flannel shirt 
and trousers, his face ruddy with much scrubbing 
and his hair as flat and shining as lirush and water 
could make it. 

The twins, awed by the unusual cleanliness and 
order, desisted from their customary pleasantry of 
tipping over their mugs of milk, and sat and sipped 
their milk quietly, holding their bread with their 
little finger perked out as Retta did — the latter fol- 
lowing the example of the French maid at Casa 
Valetta. 

That was the beginning of a new order of things 
at Minnow Island — the Bible-reading and the clean- 
liness. And somehow the whole place gradually 
lost its shiftless look. Patty scolded less and 
coaxed more — until presently the unsightly pile 
of driftwood flanking the west end of the house 
was split up and stowed away in the shed; the 
chips were raked up from the yard ; the steps were 


44 


ISLAND PATTY 


mended and covered with two coats of good 
paint; the old broken skiff lying against the 
house was filled with rich earth and Patty, planting 
therein seeds and slips which Mrs. Leonard gave 
her, soon had the reward of seeing it, like the Lady 
of ShalotPs boat, all decked with flowers. 

Inside the house, too, the change went on. Stim- 
ulated by Doris Leonard’s suggestions, and some- 
times by little gifts so graciously offered that they 
were graciously received, Patty continued the good 
work of renovation. The floors were painted, and 
the boys, proud of the shining yellow surface, grew 
wary about putting muddy boots on them. Patty, 
who had no little fame at fishing, caught many a 
pickerel and shining perch, which her brothers sold 
for her, faithfully bringing her the money, which 
she invested in pretty scrim for fresh window-cur- 
tains and a new cretonne cover for the old lounge. 

Ben Graham joined the renovating force. In- 
stead of spending hour after hour dozing and smok- 
ing on the bench outside the house, he bestirred 
himself and made shelves for books that would have 
done credit to a cabinet-maker himself. Judge 
Leonard filled the shelves with entertaining and 
instructive volumes. That was his special gift to 
Patty, in whom, as he learned to know her better, 
he took a great interest. 

On the upper tier, which Patty called her Sun- 
day shelf,” was “Thomas k Kempis” and dear old 
“ Pilgrim’s Progress,” and even the twins were 
never weary of hearing about the lions, the Palace 
Beautiful, Mr. Greatheart, and the Celestial City. 


ISLAND PATTY 


45 


Those were happy days for Patty, days of growth 
and development, days of earnest resolutions, 
steadfast aims, and joyous hopes for the future. 

Work? Of course she worked. There were the 
daily tasks — the drudgery of hard, unending toil; 
but it was all lightened and sweetened by high 
thoughts and loving heartiness. And how much 
difference the latter makes in the tasks of our life ! 

Doris, too, while growing stronger in body, was 
developing in grace and strengtli of character. 
Patty had saved her life! She could never forget 
that; but aside from this obligation, she loved the 
girl, for the latter’s bright, sweet self. She longed 
to make her happy, to bring to her the gracious 
gifts which her life lacked; and she forgot her own 
invalidism in making pleasant plans for this girl- 
friend. 

“I haven’t been able to do great things, but God 
has brought me the acquaintance of this girl that I 
may have the privilege of helping her, of awakening 
spiritual longings and aims within her. I can give 
her things to make her life brighter, as a young girl’s 
should be; and I can help her to make the most of 
herself. She knows little of school knowledge, of 
books and their teachings; slie has no accomplish- 
ments — that is, nothing but what she has taught 
herself ; but she is naturally brighter than any girl I 
ever saw at Madame Hildebrand’s. She would 
make a fine student. As for art — ah, she has 
a talent, and oh ! how glad I am that she showed me 
those sketches of hers!” 

This last was in allusion to a secret which Patty, 


46 


ISLAND PATTY 


after several weeks of ripening friendship, had 
revealed to Doris — a little portfolio made from a 
pasteboard box and filled with drawings and water- 
color paintings — all done in a crude yet strong way, 
showing an observant eye and a steady hand. 

Here was a sketch of Casa Valetta standing out 
amid its mass of greenery; here were the Narrows, 
the rocky walls on each side, the strip of dark-green, 
foam-flecked waters between. There was a drawing 
of the jack-straw lighthouse over near Gananoque, 
and here a bright bit of coloring — Grindstone Island 
lying like a yellow couchant lion, its sides dotted 
with the white tents of the “ American Canoe Asso- 
ciation,” and the rippling red banner down at 
“Squaw Point.” Here was the little inlet at the 
head of Blind Bay, where water lilies, white and 
sweet, rested on their dark-green pads; there was a 
clump of cat-tails, velvety-brown, with yellow and 
purple-mottled butterflies poised above them. 
Here, a strip of the shore, the white waves curling 
up over the reddish-brown pebbles, with the twins, 
plump, pink-legged, catching minnows. There, a 
charcoal sketch of Tom, looking like a 'veritable 
dark-eyed Italian, with his violin carefully tucked 
under his chin and the far-away, dreamy look on 
his face. Indeed, Patty’s sketches embraced 
the whole family taken in various attitudes and 
attire. 

Some of these sketches Doris took the unasked- 
for liberty of showing to her uncle and aunt, and 
great were their surprise and interest. And the 
Judge immediately ordered a well-filled paint-box 


ISLAND PATTY 


47 


wliich made the little artist's eyes glow with joy 
when her birthday morning came. 

Patty, indeed, felt her life exi)anding. Now that 
the future held a i)romise for her, the present was 
happier. She sang at her mopping and scrubbing; 
she sang when her pink arms were plunged deep in 
the suds of the weekly washing; she sang — how 
could she help singing? — when she looked from the 
window of the house — the window framing such a 
wondrous picture of sky, water and soft green isles! 
She was more gentle and considerate toward 
her father, more loving to her brothers, more 
patient with lletta’s foibles. Doris Leonard’s 
influence was like a sweet, stimulating atmos- 
phere. 

“ You see,” Doris said one afternoon, “ God wants 
us to make the very best of each day. He gives 
them to us, one at a time, and He wants us to put 
into each one as it comes to us all tlie joy we can, all 
the love and patience and good-will; and a day so 
sj)ent, no matter how hard the work or pain 
or outside disa})pointment, will be a happy 
day!” 

“ I am trying to have such days,” said Patty, 
earnestly. “You have helped me to feel that God 
is my dear, loving Heavenly Father, and that he 
really cares whether I do right or wrong. It is such 
a comfort to know that somebody cares! Oh yes, 
I am having happy days now, dear Doris; but do 
you know” — a gloomy look banishing the bright- 
ness of her face — “ do you know that it is nearly the 
last of August? Ten days more and you will be 


48 


ISLAND PATTY. 


gone. I heard Judge Leonard tell father that Casa 
Valetta would be closed the first week in September. 
Oh, dear! what shall I do without you!” and Patty 
stopped rowing — for the girls were in the little skiff 



“oh, dear! what shall I DO WITHOUT YOU !” 

out upon the river — and let the boat drift along as 
the waves chose to carry it, while she gazed discon- 
solately into Doris’s face. 


ISLAND PATTY. 


49 


The latter leaned over and patted the brown 
hands resting on the oarlocks. 

“I know it/’ she said tenderly; “Pve been think- 
ing about it myself! The summer has flown away 
as if on wings! It has been a happy one to me; and 
do you know, I dreaded it so ! But it has brought 
me renewed health and strength; I am really begin- 
ning to feel almost as well as 1 did before my accident. 
And you have given me so much pleasure, Patty.” 

“I?” said Patty, looking up in surprise. “It is 
you who have been a comfort to me.” 

“Oh, but think of the rows you have given me in 
your little boat, and how you have watched over me, 
keeping me from taking cold or overdoing. Aunt 
Isabel says 3'ou are a born nurse! And how you’ve 
trotted around with my books and cushions and 
medicines. Oh, I owe you lots, Patty Graham.” 

Patty shook her head deprecatingly. 

“What I have done was only pleasure for me,” 
she said, and then, with a little break in her voice, 
as she took up the oars and with a few vigorous 
strokes sent the skiff away from the shoals whither 
it was drifting — “ and now to think that it is all over, 
or nearly! and that maybe I sha’n’t see you again, 
anyway until next summer! 

‘‘Oh, I dread the long, cold winter, the being 
cooped up here in the ice and snow, seeing 
nothing but the gray river, hearing nothing but 
the wind! Then, the noisy squabbles at home, 
the worrying lest father won’t have enough work 
to keep us in food and fuel, and hearing Retta 
whine because she can’t have this or can’t have that I 


50 


ISLAND PATTY 


Then there isn’t a nook or corner in the house that I 
can call my very own, where I can go to sketch and 
paint and be undisturbed. Then,” more gravely, 
“ my Christian life — it’s just begun; it is so weak and 
feeble. I am afraid that when you go away I shall 
be so discouraged that I’ll give up trying. It’ll 
be a hard matter to row over to church when the 
wind is raw and the water rough, or when it’s frozen 
up, it’s so bitter cold. Father doesn’t care about it, 
and the first thing I know, Sunday’ll be kept just 
the same as any other day!” 

“ Oh, no!” Doris rejoined, cheerily. “ You’ve got 
too good a start to fall back! Why, didn’t you tell 
me that the boys, even the twins, were beginning to 
enjoy the Bible reading? And you said that your 
father stayed and listened several times. What if 
the bo5^s are noisy — they love you with all their dear 
honest hearts. As for Retta, well, I think Retta is 
improving. The other day when I was at your 
island she was actually sewing buttons on Grant’s 
choes. And she’s been consulting me in regard to 
the Christmas present she is making for you.” 

“Really!” and Patty’s face brightened. “Retta 
is a pretty girl, and I’m proud of her delicate face 
and dainty ways.” 

“She is pretty. She’s growing fast, too. I 
shouldn’t wonder if she would soon be able to take 
charge of things if you were away,” and Doris nod- 
ded, as if in assent to some unspoken thought revolv- 
ing in her busy brain. 

“Yes; the day I went to the Endeavor meeting 
she kept house; made pies and cookies, and cleaned 


ISLAND PATTY 


51 


up. She’s a good cook, Ret is; makes things look 
fancy and appetizing. But dear me, Doris! there’s 
the ‘Islander’ bringing in the six o’clock mail! I 
must hurry home. A^ou will be late for supper!” 

“For dinner, you mean,” Doris corrected, laugh- 
ing. “Uncle and Auntie still adhere to their city 
customs. Well, we are late, that’s a fact. Let me 
take the other pair of oars, Patty — isn’t it nice that 
I don’t have backache any more! — and we’ll ‘pull 
for the shore.’ ” 

Patty let out her passenger at the pretty pagoda 
boat-house on Valetta Island, and Doris ran up along 
the gray stone coping with its border of flowers. 
Once she stopped, just as Patty had rowed away 
a few rods from the beach and called out gayly, 

“Oh, I say, Patty dear!” 

“What is it?” and Patty paused, the oars held 
aloft, the drops falling from them like loops and 
strands of diamonds. 

Doris’s eyes shone; her cheeks were red and there 
was such a funny, mysterious look on her face, that 
Patty stared in wonder. 

“Oh, Patty!” she repeated. “I know — some- 
thing! But I sha’n’t tell — at least not just yet!” 
and with a little tantalizing laugh Doris waved her 
white hand and disappeared among the shrubbery 
surrounding the house. 

“What can she mean?” said Patty as she rowed 
homeward, her boat rocking like a wind-tossed leaf 
from the swells of the out-going “Islander.” 


52 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER V. 


A SOFT southwest wind was churning up the 
waters of Little Crescent Pay. It was a good 
“ fishing wind,” and when, in the gray of the fast- 
falling twilight, Ben Graham drew up his boat on 
the dock and slid it into the little weather-beaten 
shed he called his boat-house, he took from it a long 
string of orange-finned perch and several black- 
spotted pickerel — one a good “nine-pounder.” 

But Ben Graham was not as loudly jubilant as 
usual over his good luck. Instead of a vigorous 
and good-natured shout for Dick and Joe to assist 
him, he laid the string of fish down on the dock, 
sprawled beside them, tailor-fashion, and taking out 
his fish-knife shar}:)ened it a little, using his boot as a 
whetstone, and then began to clean his fish with a 
dexterity born of much practice. 

The pickerel were promptly decapitated and 
scaled; as for the perch — one slit down the back, 
another down the front edge, the knife slid under, 
then a little pull with the finger, and the whole skin, 
scales and all, peeled off as one prepares a banana 
for eating — and the flesh of the fish was left bare and 
white, ready to be rolled in meal and fried in siz- 
zling hot pork-fat. 



GRAY OF THE TWILIGHT BExM DREW UP TO THE DOCK 







54 


ISLAND PATTY 


Ben Graham performed his task in p:loomy ab- 
straction. He neither whistled nor sang, as he was 
accustomed to do while engaged in the disagreeable 
task of fish-cleaning. 

Now and then he gazed far away where the gray 
of the waters and the gray of the sky were diAuded 
by a twinkling glow of yellow light from the light- 
house on Shoal Island. A gloom of gathering night 
and storm seemed to brood over him. 

Once he paused, and, reaching in his coat-pocket, 
took hold of the corner of an envelope concealed 
there; then he thrust it back. 

“No, it’s getting too dark; I ain’t got time, and 
my hands are too fishy to read it now. Besides,” 
with a deprecatory cough, “ I know what’s in it; 
I’ve read it three times a’ready! Each time it 
makes a feller feel worse!” 

A little pause, and then he tossed the head of a 
pickerel with glazed eyes and gaping mouth, out 
upon the dark, frothing waters. 

“She’s a good girl, Patty is,” he soliloquized. “I 
don’t know what I’d do without her. She was only 
’leven years old when her ma died. The twins were 
nothing but babies, and such mischievous ones you 
never did see; always getting into something — pan- 
cake-batter, coal-scuttles, cooky- jars, and even the 
St. Lawrence itself — almost 1 They were a care and 
no mistake, and Patty’s been through it all and stood 
by me like a brave little woman. Guess I’ve ex- 
pected too much of her sometimes. Got kind of 
used to it; she’s so dependable! But she hasn’t had 
much comfort herself, poor thing! — no pleasures nor 


ISLAND PATTY 


55 


young folks’ company. I never just conjectured 
how much she’d enjoy it until this summer, when 
she’s been with the Judge’s niece so much. Such a 
change as it has been to her! She don’t look so 
tired and discouraged, nor fretty. It does one good 
to hear her singing around. I don’t know” — here 
Ben Graham shook his head gravely over the perch 
whose shining jacket he was slipping off — “I don’t 
just exactly know how I’d stand it without hearing 
my little Pat warbling around.” 

He sighed heavily and stared up into the sky 
where the wind was doing its best to sweep away 
cloud and mist. A star was struggling through 
like a brightly-lighted ship on a stormy sea. 
The soft rays shone down pure and calm. 
They made Ben Graham think of his lost wife’s 
eyes. 

She made me promise to do the best I could for 
the children — the very best,” he said slowly, as he 
stooped and rinsed off his fish in the fast-flowing 
water and wrapped them in a newspaper prepara- 
tory to going up to the house. 

“She wanted them to have a chance. She was 
always talking about that. ‘ They’re bright children, 
Ben dear,’ says she — and so they are! Patty looks 
like her ma. She’s got her ma’s ways, too. Her 
ma liked pictures; she was always cutting ’em out of 
newspapers and pasting ’em up around the house. 
Well, I don’t know,” with a solemn shake of his 
head, “ I don’t know but what I’ll have to stand it 
if she says yes — and it’s natural she should say yes.” 

He washed his hands and dried them on his over- 


5G 


ISLAND PATTY 


alls, and with an old stub of a broom from the boat- 
house swept off the scales and bloody remains of the 
fish from the planks of the dock. Then he walked 
slowly up to the house. 

The door was wide open and a yellow shaft of light 
shot out into the moist darkness. With it came 
appetizing odors of supper. 

The children were singing; the twins’ shrill treble, 
Tom’s rich notes, and Patty’s sweet, girlish voice 
filled the little room with melodious cheer. 

It was Joe who first heard the father’s step and 
ran out. 

“Oho! Fish for supper! Hurray! Enough to 
go around and to spare! Say, Patty, didn’t I tell 
you that you needn’t fry that salt pork ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, the fat’ll be all ready for the fish,” said 
Patty, cheerily, as she smiled a welcome at her 
father. 

Her eyes were shining and her cheeks as red as 
cherries from bending over the fire. 

“There’s a letter for you, Patty,” said her father, 
as he disappeared into his bedroom to change his 
clothes. “I’ll put it on the sewing-machine for 
you.” 

“ Guess it’s the samples of dress-goods Miss Doris 
promised to send for you, isn’t it?” Retta remarked, 
with an inquisitive glance. 

“No,” said Patty, as she took up the envelope. 

The latter had a business-like look; in the upper 
left-hand corner was printed, “Office of the Sur- 
rogate of Calumet County” It was addressed in 
Judge Leonard’s handwriting; Patty knew it very 


ISLAND PATTY 


57 


well from its peculiarity. Doris had once 
laughingly observed that her Uncle’s chirography 
“ looked as though he had done it with his 
cane.” 

The letter was addressed to her father and had 
been opened, but Patty did not stop to read it. She 
did not have time, for the pork-fat was sending up a 
blue dame; the fish must be fried and the twins were 
clamorous from long waiting for their supper. 
Besides, something — she knew not what — made her 
prefer to delay the reading of the letter until she was 
alone. 

“ It’s something important,” she said to herself. 

Pa looks so sober; he must be worried. Maybe — 
oh, dear! maybe Judge Leonard wants to sell Min- 
now Island!” 

Ben Graham did not own the island on which he 
lived, but stayed there, rent free. Every now 
and then came a haunting fear that possibly the 
family might be sold out of house and home, as 
Patty said. Only the previous summer a syndicate, 
desirous of putting up a new hotel, had made over- 
tures to the Judge. 

Patty fried the fish, poured out the tea, spread 
treacle on the twins’ slices of bread and butter; then, 
when all were seated at the table, she ran up to her 
own room. 

Groping around in the dark, she found the little 
tin match-box and lighted her hand-lamp. Kneel- 
ing down, with her elbows resting on the bureau, she 
read the letter. 

It was brief, but to the point. When Judge 


58 


ISLAND PATTY 


Leonard had anything important to say, he said it 
in as few words as possible. 

At first a look of bewilderment swept over Patty’s 
face. The-n gradually, as the full import of the 
letter dawned on her mind, she grew pale, then 
flushed again, and her eyes grew large with surprise 
and elation. 

“Wants me!” she exclaimed to herself. “Wants 
me? Painting-lessons and travel abroad 1 ‘ As com- 

panion and sister to Doris!’ — ‘Mrs. Leonard and 
myself have set our hearts upon it.’ ” Patty repeated 
almost solemnly sentence after sentence from the 
letter. 

She sank down upon the floor, as ready to cry as to 
laugh. Although she could hardly believe it, there 
it was, in black and white — the offer of the Leonards 
to take her, Patty Graham, into their beautiful 
home — not as a servant, but as a child almost. They 
would give her love, kindness, and tender care. She 
would have books, nice clothes, the best of schooling, 
as well as instruction in the art she so loved. Then, 
too, she would be with her friend Doris. 

She had only time enough to take in a hasty idea 
of this bewitching proposal when Joe’s voice brought 
her down from the heights to which her imagination 
soared. 

“ Patty ! where are you ! The sugar bowl is empty 
and the twinnies want some more bread and ’lasses!” 

So, with throbbing heart, she hurried down the 
stairs. 

Her father glanced up as she emerged from the 
little dark hallway. There was a wistful look on his 


ISLAND PATTY. 


59 


face, but he said nothing. However, after the boys 
were abed that night, and Retta had gone up stairs 
to try on a dress-waist on which she had been in- 
dustriously sewing all the evening, Ben Graham said 
to Patty, who stood by the kitchen table soberly 
beating the bread-sponge : 

“Well, my girl, what do you think of the Judge’s 
letter?” 

“ I haven’t had much time to — to think about it!” 
was the hesitating reply. 

“I call it a pretty nice offer!” 

“Yes! isn’t it kind of them!” said Patty, enthu- 
siastically, and turned a glowing face towards the 
slouching figure sitting and smoking in the dimly- 
lighted corner. 

“Very fair, I consider it,” Ben Graham continued. 
“It’s a chance out of a thousand! It’s a chance 
that your ma would love to have you get ! Your ma 
was always talking about having the children make 
something of themselves. She’d been glad to have 
you become a painter.” 

“ An artist, pa,” Patty corrected respectfully. 

Ben Graham made a little grimace. 

“ It’s all the same in Dutch! But land! if ‘artist’ 
sounds more stylish, as Ret would say, why, ‘artist’ 
let it be ! Anyhow, I think you would be ‘ A number 
one’ at the business, if you took lessons from some- 
body who knew how to paint. Maybe you could 
make money at it by-and-by. There was a man over 
at Clayton who told me that he had seen a picture in 
a store at Watertown — a little bit of a picture it was, 
of pansies or some such garden-truck — and it was 


60 


ISLAND PATTY 


sold for twenty-five dollars! Just think of that 
now!’' 

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t amount to anything 
after all, pa,” Patty said, modestly. “Seems as 
though I get more and more discouraged with my 
sketches every day.” 

Ben Graham waved his pipe impatiently. 

“Oh, nonsense! don’t give up! You’ll make a 
strike by-and-by! It’s just like fishing: you’ve got 
to have the right kind of tackle, a good wind, the 
proper depth of water — not too much eel-grass — fix 
your bait on all right, then have patience to wait!” 

“Well, but, father,” said Patty, plunging at once 
into the pivotal part of the question, “you know 
that I am the oldest of the children, and have got 
into the way of looking after things. How would 
you get along without me?” 

Ben Graham stirred uneasily in his chair. 

“My stars! we’d have to manage somehow! The 
twins are getting bigger and don’t need so much 
running after. And Retta, why, it’s time she took 
her turn at the wheel. And, anyhow,” a little dole- 
fully, “I s’pose I could get Mrs. Mahoney to come 
over two or three times a week. Her tongue is enough 
to turn one into a cold clod of the valley, but I’ll try 
to put up with it. She likes gum ; I can buy her some 
‘tutti-frutti’ and set her to work chewing it so that 
she won’t talk so much;” and Patty’s sire grew 
somewhat cheerful in contemplating this novel plan. 

“How long did the Judge sa)^ he wanted me to 
stay with them?” said Patty thoughtfully. 

“ Oh, a couple of years anyway, and he kind of 


ISLAND PATTY 


61 


intimated, you know, that he calculated to keep you 
longer, provided you did well and were happy and 
contented. Maybe, though, you could learn enough 
in less than two years to paint a picture worth 
twenty-five dollars!” 

“Wouldn’t it be splendid!” and Patty clapped 
her hands in joyful contemplation of so bright a 
future. “And how nice to earn one’s living by painting 
pretty things here and there and selling them to 
people who would have pleasure in looking at them.” 

“ Y’^our going with the Leonards would sort of 
take you into good company and all that,” said her 
father. “ You like folks who are gentle and refined. 
Y ou like pretty things, too, j ust as well as Ret. Land 
knows, I haven’t been able to give you what you 
deserve!” and Ben Graham’s rough chin sank down 
disconsolately on the checked front of his shirt. 

Patty flew across the room, put her arms around 
his neck and kissed him. “ You’ve given me all you 
could, pa,” she said. “And it really seems as 
though it would be kind of mean if I were to go off 
and leave you now.” 

“Sho! don’t say that! That’s nonsense. Y^ou’ve 
done your part — more than you should! And now 
that you’ve got a fine chance, take it. Take it, sure! 
That’s your pa’s heartfelt advice,” and Ben Graham 
rose from his chair, knocked the ashes from his 
pipe and went to his room. 

But before he blew out his light he took from the 
bureau drawer a photograph faded a dull brown. It 
was the face of a woman youthful, though careworn, 
with frank, honest eyes like Patty’s, and with a 


62 


ISLAND PATTY 


gentle, sensitive mouth that made one think of little 
Tom’s. She wore an old-fashioned gown with ruffles 
and bias bands on sleeves and waist. Ben Graham 
looked at it long and earnestly. 

'‘I’ve done my duty, Sarah,” he said to it. “I 
told our child, I told Patty what I thought was the 
very best thing for her to do. Me and the children’ll • 
get along somehow; and, Sarah, I kind of hope that 
the Lord’ll let you sort of watch over us!” 

Meanwhile Patty had slipped out of the house, 
ostensibly with the purpose of taking in a few gar- 
ments left out on the clothes-line, but really to be 
alone, that she might, as she said to herself, “have 
a chance to think.” She could not do this if she 
went up to her room, with Retta there, chattering 
everlastingly about “puffed sleeves,” “blouse 
front” and “boleros.” 

Gathering the towels and aprons upon her arm, 
she ran a few steps down the path and then dropped 
into the weather-beaten hammock swinging between 
two ungainly pine-trees. 

It did not seem so much like rain now. The wind 
had changed — whipped around to the west; the air 
was lighter and cooler, and, though a layer of clouds 
like snow-banks lay along the horizon, there was a 
great wide space above of clear blue-black, all 
gemmed with stars. Over toward the lighthouse 
the moon was rising, and the whole width of the 
river lay like a sheet of rippling silver. The islands 
scattered here and there stood out in dark browns 
and purples, the trees and bushes outlined on them 
like etchings which Patty had seen in Mrs. Leonard’s 


ISLAND PATTY 


63 


parlor. Somewhere, miles away, there was an ex- 
cursion boat with a search-light aboard, for every 
now and then the sky glowed as with an aurora. 
For one instant a bit of mainland or a little isle was 
bathed in quivering, emerald light, the water near it 
a great white blaze — then it disappeared, to return 
again in some other direction. 

Far down the river, toward the “Bay,” was an 
island bordered by colored lanterns — red and yellow, 
gleaming like strings of rubies and topaz. There 
was a festive gathering of some sort there, and the 
stray notes of the band floated softly up on the 
wings of the .wind. 

Every fibre in Patty’s being thrilled with the 
beauty of the fairy-like scene. Her soul was ever 
ready to rejoice over the loveliness in the world. 
And now an opportunity was before her to behold 
many other wondrous things — the scenery and cities 
of the Old World, the libraries and art-galleries, the 
books, painting and sculpture — all the beautiful 
things done by human brain and human hand. 
Then the comforting consciousness of good clothes — 
the rustle and sheen of silk, the touch of soft, cool 
linen — food, dainty and strengthening — hands that 
might be kept white and soft because they had no 
need to toil — Patty thought of all these things as sue 
sat there alone in the moonlight, and it is only true 
to say that the prospect was very tempting. 

But something came between her and the glowing 
future. Little Meade’s stockings — the pink flesh 
showing through holes in them ! Patty had mended a 
pair of just such stockings that very afternoon. And 


64 


ISLAND PATTY 


there were more pairs to mend ! There always 
would be, as long as Minnow Island’s rocks lasted 
and little Meade, like a chubby chamois, clambered 
over them. And Grant, too, was no less destructive. 

Yes, there were stockings, blouses, jackets and 
trousers — who would see to them all if she went 
away? Who would make everybody comfortable? 
Retta detested mending! 

Then the twins were croupy children. Would 
Retta always remember the goose-grease and ipecac? 
Oh, there were so many homely little every-day 
duties to attend to I 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Patty. “Last spring, if any- 
body had given me a chance to leave Minnow Island, 
I would have just grabbed at it! But now — well, I 
know that, in order to be what God intends us to be, 
one must, first of all, push back great, big, crowding 
Self! But, oh, the joy of studying, of drawing and 
painting, and having beauty and luxury around me !” 

Thus, all alone, out there with the night, the 
brooding sky, the rippling waters, with the search- 
light flashing on her every now and then like a mighty 
eye seeking to penetrate her inmost motives, Patty 
sat and foughtthe battle between her own ambitions 
and the humble needs of those dependent upon her. 
And prayers and tears mingled with her thoughts. 

When, an hour later, she ran up the path and 
softly entered the house, her face glowed even 
through its mist of tears, and before she went to bed 
she slipped a little note under her father’s door — a 
simple little note, hastily written, but every word 
sweet Avith the savor of self-sacrifice. 


ISLAND PATTY. 


65 


“Doar Pa: Will you please thank the Judge, but 
tell him that it will be impossible for me to accept 
his kind offer? I would not feel right or be happy to 
leave home now. There are the twins’ stockings — 
and the — the goose-grease — dear me! I hardly know 
what I am writing! Anyhow, I can’t go with the 
Leonards — so there! You would miss me, pa — 
wouldn’t you? And, pa, if you will, don’t urge me to 
go or talk about it ! It would be kind of hard for me 
to listen! Just act, pa, as though nothing had 
happened. I’ll feel much better that way. And 
now good-night, dear pa! Respectfully, 

From your Patty,” 


6G 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER VI. 

It was Tom who went with the Leonards. The 
offer declined by Patty was extended to the 
music-loving little lad. 

“He shall have good care and the best instruc- 
tion/’ said the Judge, and, as Tom had no stockings 
to darn, nor croupy children to watch, duty did not 
bind him to Minnow Island. 

True, the Leonards’ preference had been Patty. 
There was something about the bright-faced girl 
who was giving her best to her little brood that won 
their hearts. Besides they were fully convinced 
that she had unusual talent, and it would give them 
a new interest in life to aid that talent in its develop- 
ment. 

And Doris — well, it was a time for battling for her. 
She wanted Patty, oh, so much! Yet, down in her 
heart, she was eagerly hoping that Patty would be 
brave and true to her own best self. And so, 
though her heart ached at the thought of separation 
from the girl-friend who^was so much to her, she said 
not one word to influence Patty to change her 
decision. And that was Doris’s little victory over 
self. 

As we have said, Tom went with the Judge’s 
family. One beautiful September morning, when 
the air was crisp with coming frost, yet mellow 



AWAY WENT THE EMPIRE STATE. 








68 


ISLAND PATTY 


with golden sunshine, Tom stood, resplendent in 
a new navy-blue suit, on the deck of the “ Empire 
State” as it left the dock of the Park. Tom’s olive 
cheeks were glowing; the slumbrous fire in his 
dark eyes had flashed into flame. He was going 
out into the wide world — the world of wondrous 
sights and sweet harmonies. That day was one 
grand symphony for him — no discords of any sort, 
and the only minor chord was the thought of sep- 
aration from his own folk. 

Perhaps it was Patty’s spirit which felt the more 
strongly the sweet, sad touch of minor chords, as 
she stood on the dock, watching the receding steam- 
boat. Away it moved — the channel of blue water 
widening between its white side and the black 
dock. Red and blue pennants fluttered against 
the clear sky, the band struck up “ The girl I left 
behind we”; good-bys were shouted — some merry, 
others with a quiver of tears in them. 

Away went the stately “ Empire State,” growing 
smaller and smaller, until she looked like a white 
swan resting on the waters. No longer were flutter- 
ing handkerchiefs seen and the waving of hats. The 
notes of the band came back faintly now, and sad- 
der with the sound of farewell. 

Patty moved away from the main dock and went 
down to the boat-livery, where her father was wait- 
ing with the skiff. He looked anxiously at her face. 
Then he did something which he was not in the habit 
of doing — he took her in his arms as one lifts a baby 
and kissed her tenderly before he placed her in the 
boat. 


ISLAND PATTY 


69 


‘‘YouTe a good girl, Patty!” he said in a husky 
voice, “a good girl, and I shan’t forget it!” 

So they rowed back to Minnow Island, and the old 
life continued. The flagstaff over at Casa Valetta 
stood up like a gaunt gray ghost; the gay flowers 
along the parterres blackened into crape with the 
coming of frosty nights; gradually the river lost its 
fleet of excursion boats, jaunty naphtha launches 
and fishermen’s trolling boats, the “Park” was like 
a deserted village; the big hotels on the islands 
looked solemn and forlorn. The season was over! 

But the royal season of the year was just at hand, 
the beautiful autumn, when a drapery of cloth-o’- 
gold wrapped the shores of the river. Instead of 
colored lanterns, the Frost-King’s torch illuminated 
isle and mainland. Instead of the wandering 
“searchlight” the great silvery moon shone down 
with the crystal clearness of October nights. 
Sumach decked the gray rocks with scarlet plumes; 
the red wine of woodbine was spilt over the mossy 
crevices; along the slopes was the white everlasting, 
looking like drifts of snow; near it were the purple 
asters and golden-rod; down by the pebbly shore 
were the white wool of thoroughwort and the satin 
puffs of wild clematis. 

Patty’s heart was brightened by the prodigal 
display of color around her. As a child, denied some 
great pleasure, is comforted by beautiful toys, so 
she grew happier as she took long walks over her 
island home, or, in her skiff, wandered from shore to 
shore, drinking in the clear air, the sunshine and the 
beauty around her. 


70 


ISLAND PATTY 


These were days wlien her father lavished much 
loving appreciation upon her. Rough and uncouth, 
careless and indolent as he sometimes appeared, 
down in Ben Graham’s heart was a wealth of tender- 
ness, which Patty’s sacrifice had touched and brought 
to the surface. 

He showed it by unwonted gentleness of manner 
toward her, as well as by vigorous attempts at up- 
holding her authority in all things, especially in 
lustily cuffing Joe and Dick when they demurred at 
wearing clean collars or rowing over to Sabbath 
school held in the little chapel at the “ Park.” 

“ Don’t you know your sister Patty is trying to 
bring you up decent! Stop snuffling now, mosey 
into them trousers and learn your catechism,” with 
much other good advice. 

Thus the days drifted by — October — November. 
Presently all the glory faded from the trees; scarlet 
and yellow leaves fluttered down and lay browning 
in the crevices of the rocks; the river grew lead- 
color from the lowering sky. One day, after much 
sullen muttering, a great icy storm swept down from 
Lake Ontario. Snowflakes came — a few at first, 
like scouts preceding the regular army — then whole 
battalions — and all the green isles which had lain 
warm and smiling beneath the summer sun looked 
bare and drear, their gray rocks showing like the 
bones of a deserted carcass. Soon the whirling 
flakes covered them, and earth, sky and water were 
a great blur of white and gray. Thus winter set- 
tled down on Minnow Island. 

But in spite of its dreariness and isolation, it 


ISLAND PATTY 


71 


was not an altogether unhappy season for Patty. 
In the first place, she was very busy, and one who 
is well occupied need not be hopelessly sad. She 
saw her family improving under her watchful care, 
and hei' father’s quiet content added to her own 
l)eace of mind. 

Letters came every now and then from Tom, let- 
ters filled with glowing descriptions of the beautiful 
places he had seen, the kindness with which he was 
treated, and ending always with the joyous tidings 
of progress in his beloved music. 

One morning — it was the beginning of spring and 
the ice had broken up in the river, a warm south 
wind was blowing and the crows were cawing loudly 
up on Maple Island — Ben Graham came bustling 
into the house. 

“Pve got a job to do to-day, Patty! It’s car- 
pentering. That broker from Brooklyn, who bought 
Pine Island, sent word that he wants things fixed up 
around his jdace. He’s coming early this summer — 
that is, his family’ll be here early — and I suppose he 
knows what a rush there is late in the spring, and so 
he wants to get things started now. He’s going to 
put a wing on his cottage and run a piazza around 
on the east side. Then, too, he’s going to have the 
old boathouse torn down — it was nothing but an old 
rotting shed, anyway — and put a new one, a pagoda 
like the Judge’s. He’s sent the plans to me, and I 
am to get to work soon’s I' can. If this nice weather’ll 
last. I’ll have a good chance to put in some work. 
The ‘Nancy Myers’ came over from Clayton this 


72 


ISLAND PATTY 


morning and brought a load of lumber. So, if you’ll 
put me up a lunch, I’ll get my tools and be off.” 

With smiling face Patty hastened into the pantry 
and began cutting slices of bread and butter and cold 
meat. She felt very thankful that her father had 
been so fortunate as to secure this work; and, though 
she was hardly able to analyze the feeling, there was 
down in her heart an added joy because he, too, was 
pleased at the prospect of work. There had been 
times in the past when Ben Graham had grumbled 
over such opportunities; often he had shirked his 
work, but the events of the past year had wrought a 
great change in him. Patty’s patience and self- 
denial and her cheery example had not been ex- 
pended in vain. 

And back of all this, too, there was that wonderful 
though invisible lever, the Power of the Spirit, puri- 
fying and regenerating — lifting to its proper plane 
the soul made in the image of God. And Patty’s 
heart was greatly rejoiced and her daily tasks were 
glorified by inward peace and hope. 

She rolled up the green paper shades at the pantry 
window. A great burst of sunshine poured in, mak- 
ing the old-fashioned, blue-rimmed dishes on the 
shelves glisten with soft, creamy light. A fly on the 
window-sill bestirred his rheumatic legs and crawled 
slowly up the pane, and then, warmed by the genial 
rays, fell to fluttering and bumping about giddily, 
while he sang a queer little buzzing song of exulta- 
tion. 

“ Yes, spring is here, Mr. Blue-bottle!” said Patty, 
laughing at his antics. “ Spring is almost here up on 


ISLAND PATTY 


73 


the St. Lawrence! ‘ Let the earth rejoice; let the mul- 
titude of isles be glad thereof!’ How pleasant it will 
be to see the green grass and flowers and birds again ! 
It seems as though I was never so happy in looking 
forward to spring as I am this year!” 

Ah, Patty, into your young life has come the grand 
truth that a soul in harmony with the All-Father 
finds no discord in nature! 

“I dreaded the winter,” Patty continued. *‘I 
dreaded the cold and loneliness and poverty, but God 
made the way clear for me; He smoothed out all 
difficulties, and oh, I have so many things for which 
to be thankful!” 

Singing away, she filled the dinner-pail with bread, 
and meat and cheese, not forgetting to tuck in a 
crispy brown apple turnover. Then, throwing a 
shawl over her head — for the air was still keen from 
the melting snow and ice uj) northward — she ran 
down to the boat, into which her father had just 
lifted his chest of tools. 

He took the tin pail from her hand, tucked it 
under the seat of the skiff, and then, seizing the 
oars, pushed off. 

“It may be late before I get home this evening,” 
he said. “ I don’t know but what after I quit work, 
if it isn’t too dark. I’ll row over to Fisher’s Landing. 
I want to see a man there about a cow. Tell you 
what, Patty, I think it’ll be nice to have a good 
•Jersey arid lots of milk and cream. And to think 
that I’ve saved up enough money to pay for her is 
nicer still. ” 

“That’s so!” Patty called out cheerily. Then 


74 


ISLAND PATTY 


for a minute she stood there smiling and waving her 
hand, while she watched her father’s boat moving 
farther and farther away. 

Suddenly he paused an instant in his lusty strokes 
and with uplifted arm pointed away southward. A 
liearty peal of laughter came from his lips and rip- 
pled in a score of echoes across the waters. 

Patty turned and looked in the direction his hand 
had indicated. A little frown contracted her brows; 
then she banished it and uttered a low, merry laugh. 

A boat was coming around the point to Cone 
Island. It contained a huge, upright bundle of 
green and red plaid. Two fat arms were vigorously 
plying a pair of oars. 

“ It’s Aunt Creshy Potts, and she’s come to spend 
the day!” Patty exclaimed. “Dear me! I had 
planned to do lots of painting to-day, father being 
away and no hot dinner to get. I wanted to go up 
back in the woods and sketch a little scene there. 
Retta and the boys were going to boil sap there, and 
I thought we’d have a jolly time camping out till 
evening and coming home in the moonlight. But 
never mind! Ret and the twins can go, and I’ll stay 
home and entertain Aunt Creshy. I’ll do my very 
best to make her visit pleasant, too!” 

Aunt Creshy Potts was what she prided herself 
upon being, a “ genooine islander!” She had lived 
at the “ Park ” all her life ; had seen the first camping- 
out tent erected there, and taken a personal interest 
in every habitation following, from the most modest 
cottage up to the stately villa. All these years she 
had earned an honest livelihood by washing and 


ISLAND PATTY 


75 


ironing the beruffled garments of a long procession 
of summer sojourners. 

Aunt Creshy’s figure suggested one of Mrs. Stowe’s 
dear old ladies who resembled “ a feather bed tied 
around with a string!” Auut Creshy’s face was fat, 
also, and rosy like a winter apple; her eyes were 
black and keen, and her tongue — well, that made 
one think of Tennyson’s “Brook” — it “went on 
forever!” But Aunt Creshy’s gossip rarely had any 
malice in it. If anybody did anything bad, she talked 
about it, of course — how could she help talking! 
— but she always called the culprit a “ poor fellow,” 
and reckoned he was “sorry.” Among many pecul- 
iarities, Aunt Creshy possessed one that was partic- 
ularly noticeable: she did love to go “a-visiting !” 
So trivial a thing as a lack of invitation was never 
considered an obstacle by her. She liked to see 
people, and she never doubted in the least that they 
were overjoyed at seeing her. So, whenever the 
mood seized her, she donned her plaid shawl and big 
scoop-hood and started off. 

She was a thoroughly independent person. In 
spite of her fatness and general clumsiness, she could 
handle an oar as well as any waterman on the St. 
Lawrence. To be sure, there was generally some 
uncertainty about her getting into the boat — the}' 
were “such wobbly critters!” she said. Besides, 
from the ponderous way in which she placed her 
number seven gaiters in the bottom of the craft, 
there was a suggestion of imminent danger of 
staving a hole in the bottom. But, when all these 
difficulties were once surmounted, and Aunt Creshy 


70 


ISLAND PATTY. 


safely deposited on the seat and the boat had ceased 
rocking, she would grasp the oars with the hands of a 
master and make the boat leap through the water 
like a most obedient steed. She could paddle, scull 
and manage her craft as well as any youth of the 
‘‘Varsity crew,’’ and when she passed the villas on 
various islands, or pulled up at the public dock, her 
dingy boat, gorgeous shawl, and antediluvian hood 
w’ith her round ruddy face inside, attracted as much 
attention as the “Lady of Shalott” floating down 
by the towers of Camelot ! 

“How d’ye do, Patty?” she called out in a shrill, 
cheery tone as her boat bumped lightly against the 
Graham dock. “ I ain’t seen you in an age, and I 
thought that to-day I’d run over an’ see how you an’ 
your folks were getting along. Here, ketch the 
painter; I guess I’ll draw up the ‘Where Now?’ on 
the dock, seein’ as I’m goin’ to stay all day; I don’t 
want the swells to pound her against the timbers.” 

Aunt Creshy’s boat had once been painted by a 
workman of a waggish turn of mind. With great 
suavity he had suggested changing the common- 
place name “Sally Ann” to the very signifi- 
cant “Where Now?” which pleased Aunt Creshy 
mightily. 

“ Seems jest the name for a boat in which one goes 
a-visitin’!” she remarked blandly. 

Patty steadied herself on the dock and held out a 
helping hand to the old woman, who, slowly, heavily 
and with much puffing and many mirthful ejacula- 
tions, at last stood on the ])latform. Then the 
“Where Now?” was drawn up out of reach of the 


ISLAND PATTY 


77 


pounding waves, and Patty and her guest went up 
to the house. 

‘‘Pve brought my patchwork,” said Aunt Creshy. 
“ Mrs. Deacon White gave me some real bright plaids 
and they work in beautifully. Pve pieced three 
comfortables this winter and am on the fourth. Mrs. 
Dempster — she lives over at Clayton, you know — 
says this is the prettiest Pve made. How are things 
going on at the Park? Oh, all right. The Peterses 
were all down with the ‘grip,’ but they’re better now. 
The young minister that preached at the Park this 
year is goin’ to get married. Hope they’ll like his 
wife as well as they do him. They say she’s awful 
nice, so Pll guess it be all right. I don’t know but 
what — now don’t say anything, for I haven’t quite 
made up my mind about it — Pll give the young 
couple one of my comfortables! Say, Patty, seems 
as though you growed taller every time I see you. 
I was noticing it at church last Sunday. And oh, 
my dear child, don’t it seem good to have your pa 
come out and take a stand for the right 1 I always 
said that Ben Graham had a kind heart, and now it 
does seem so good to see him cornin’ to church, 
steady as a clock. J’ined, too! Well, it was what 
your ma hoped and prayed for — I knowcd her well. 
And I tell you what, Patty, my dear. Pm an old 
woman and ain’t no grammar nor education to 
boast of ; but I know one thing, and that is, that 
though it may take years to bring it about, the 
prayers of a good woman’ll always bring a blessin’ !” 


78 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER VIL 


Having installed Aunt Creshy in the big rocking- 
chair by the window, where she had a full view of 
the river and could see everything passing up and 
down it — from the dingy white, little steamboat 
that brought the daily mail to the Park to the 
black, funereal-looking line of coal-barges moving 
solemnly along under the guidance of a puffing tug — 
Patty betook herself to putting away the painting 
materials she had brought out in expectation of a 
day’s work at her beloved art. 

I think we may say that it was to her credit that 
she did it with a smile on her face. Insignificant 
though the victory may be that is gained in calmly 
laying aside work that is dear, and, instead, taking 
up a task that seems trivial and unsolicited, it is 
often a victory hard-fought for inwardly. Never- 
theless, through the Master Builder, it adds another 
substantial briek to the Palace Beautiful of our 
character. 

So Patty put away the sprawling easel, the heart- 
shaped palette, the bunch of brushes and box with 
shining tubes of paint. Then she hunted up a pair 
of trousers belonging to Grant, and, sitting down by 
Aunt Creshy’s side, betook herself to the labor 
of making new waistbands. 


ISLAND PATTY 


79 


And Aunt Creshy, surrounded by a rainbow of 
gay pieces of calico and gingham, sewed away, her 
tongue running a race with her needle — the former 
generally winning! 

“ Seems to me I smell turnips,” she said presently, 
with an appreciative sniff. ‘‘Going to have ’em 
for dinner, Patty? You had them the last time I 
was here, and I thought I never ate nicer ones — 
sweet an’ nutty, an’ b’iled dry an’ mealy, an’ with 
plenty of butter on ’em! Yes, I remembered your 
turnips all winter. An’ — le’s see — you had lemon 
pie with frosting on top. That was nice, too.” 

Patty took the hint, and, with eyes twinkling, 
she laid down her unfinished waistbands and went 
into the pantry to make the lemon pie. 

“I was going to have rice pudding,” she said to 
herself, as she beat the whites of eggs for the frosting 
so much desired by Aunt Creshy. “But I’ll make 
the pie instead. It’s a little thing to do and it will 
gratify her so much. She’s getting to be an old 
woman. Aunt Creshy is — most seventy, I guess, 
and she won’t ‘go out visiting’ many more years.” 

Having to wait for the lemon pie to cool, made 
dinner later than usual; then some time was spent 
in lingering at the table, for, under the benign in- 
fluence of toothsome dainties. Aunt Creshy’s volu- 
bility was wonderfully increased. She nibbled and 
chatted; sipped her tea and chatted, and the whole 
repast was enlivened and also lengthened by viva- 
cious post-prandial stories. 

When she rose from the table. Aunt Creshy 
hovered over it like a plump, bright-eyed robin in 


80 


ISLAND PATTY 


the act of pulling up a luscious worm. Then her 
fat arm was outstretched and she took a couple of 
cookies from the plate and also a piece of cake. 

“These are nice and fresh/’ she exclaimed ap- 
provingly. “I guess ril take a bit for George Iry. 
I’d like to take him a piece of the pie, too, but the 
frosting being on ’ll make it liable to squosh!” 
The twins nudged each other under the shelter- 
ing drapery of the tablecloth. Their respective 
mouths widened under grins that, however, con- 
tracted immediately under their sister’s reproving 
frown. Nevertheless, they were filled with inward 
glee. They had expected to see an exhibition of 
Aunt Creshy’s providence for “George Iry.” She 
always thought of him when she was out visiting. 
She never seemed to realize that George Ira, her 
youngest born, had grown up to be a burly, six- 
foot man with long beard and deep bass voice. To 
her he was always a little boy fond of “ a piece ” or 
a “sweetie.” Like a dear, provident, old mother- 
bird, she always had some worm to take home to him. 

It was late in the afternoon before the dishes were 
washed and Patty sat down to resume the button- 
holes in the new waistbands. Aunt Creshy was not 
so loquacious now. The good dinner had made her 
drowsy. She fell to nodding and nodding, and 
jwesently her chin sank lower and lower on its pink, 
fleshy terraces; the pieces of patchwork fluttered 
from her lap like pink, blue, purple and yellow 
butterflies, and she dropped into a genuine doze. 

Patty smiled to herself, inwardly grateful for this 
brief respite. The house was quite still. Retta 


ISLAND PATTY 


8 ] 


and the twins had carried out the plan of going 
“maple-sugaring” up in the woods back of the 
house, at the upper end of the island. Dick and Joe 
accompanied them. As they had not started until 
after dinner, they were to stay longer and would walk 
home, following the smooth shore-line, the moon, 
which rose early that evening, showing them the way. 

Aunt Creshy dozed on, and presently Patty laid 
down her sewing and went out into the back-yard 
to see to a brood of young chickens. She was just 
closing up the coop for the night, when a shrill voice 
was heard calling from the house. 

“ Dear me ! what can be the matter with Aunt 
Creshy? Has she tried to light the lamp and up- 
set it!” Patty murmured anxiously, as she hastily 
ran indoors. 

But Aunt Creshy was all right. She stood by 
the front window, eagerly peering out. 

“Come right here, Patty, child!” she exclaimed. 
“I want you to look over there!” 

Her fat forefinger, trembling from excitement, 
was pointed toward the little island lying quietly 
wrapped in the gray of the waters and the purple 
mantle of the fast-falling twilight — the island on 
which stood Casa Valetta, Judge Leonard’s stately 
villa. 

“Don’t you see something?” Aunt Creshy ex- 
claimed in quavering tones. Patty’s heart gave a 
great leap. 

She did see something! The towers and turrets 
of the beautiful villa stood up darkly outlined 
against the amethyst sky; no danger menaced them. 


82 


ISLAND PATTY 


But from one of the rear rooms came little gleams 
of light that were not reflections from the yellow 
sunset. Little, wicked-looking, reddish gleams they 
were, like greedy tongues, ready to lap and to eat ! 

“It’s a fire!” Patty gasped. “Oh, what shall we 
do! what shall we do!” 

“Now don’t get Hustcred, child — ’tain’t no time 
to do that! Somethin’ can be dope, I guess. Fire 
hain’t got much headway yet! It’s jest in the back 
end where the woodshed an’ tool-room is. You 
see I know all about the place — I went there a- 
visitin’ one day last summer; the jedge’s wife, she 
treated me real handsome. How that fire got 
started beats all! Somebody’s keerlessness, I 
guess. I seen a boat with sportsmen land there 
this afternoon. I s’pose they cooked their dinner 
there, and maybe didn’t put the fire out as they 
had orter! It’s a mercy it rained yesterday or 
the whole house’d been a-blaze ’fore now. There! 
I can see more flames creeping up! Something 
ought to be done right away!” 

“ Maybe I can put it out,” said Patty. “ Oh, I 
wish Iletta and the boys were here. But see here. 
Auntie, I’ll row over to Casa Valetta and see what 
I can do!” 

A few minutes later Patty was rowing rapidly 
across the darkening waters to the judge’s island. 

Reaching it, she drew up the boat, fastened it, 
and, seizing the two buckets she had brought with 
hei filled them with water and hurried as rapidly 
as she could with her burden up the path leading 
to the back door. 


ISLAND PATTY 


83 


There was a pungent smell in the air — the odor 
of burning wood, and from one end of the shed came 
a slowly increasing volume of smoke. There was a 
subdued roaring inside, broken at times by sharp 
cracklings and snappings. 

A blackened circle outside the door where a little 
heap of ashes lay, mingled with scattered clam- 
shells and sundry bones and crusts showed the 
place where careless sportsmen had built their fire 
and eaten their dinner in the shelter of the angle of 
the building. Doubtless, after their departure, 
the wind had fanned the coals, a few surrounding 
chips and twigs had caught fire, which had thus eaten 
its way under the lattice-work of the shed, where it 
had found material on which to feed abundantly. 

Fortunately, Patty had the key with her. The 
Judge always left the keys at the Grahams when he 
departed for the city, and it had been Ben Graham’s 
duty to go over to pay an occasional visit to Casa 
Valetta and examine the premises. 

Patty opened the shed door. 

A warm breath smote her cheeks; a volley of red, 
whirling sparks shot out. 

Seizing her pails she ran in and pressing her back 
against the door to close it, lest outside draughts 
should fan the flames, she threw, half-blinded by 
the smoke as she was, her two pailfuls of water 
in the direction where the glare seemed brightest. 
Then she rushed out again and ran down to the 
river for more water. 

How many times she did this she could never tell! 
Desperation lent her energy. Back and forth she 


84 


ISLAND PATTY 


toiled, her face and hands blackened by smoke, 
and her garments scorched by the greedy flames. 
Every time she tossed the water, there was an angry 
hissing, a dying down of the red flames and a smoth- 
ering cloud of smoke and vapor. But every time 
she came staggering up the hill with her brimful 
pails, she found that the fire had renewed its zeal — 
and thus the fight went on. 

Heart and voice were lifted in a prayer for 
strength and victory. She would not give up — 
she couldn't give up ! She thought of the kind, old 
judge and his wife and of Doris — all who had been 
so kind to her! How could she let their beautiful 
home be burned down before her eyes ! No, 
she must work on till she conquered the cruel 
enemy. 

Presently cheer came to her, for the lurid gleams 
seemed really to subside, and the blackness and 
moisture of the shed increased. Inch by inch she 
had fought the flames, and, though rebellious, they 
had finally retreated before her. 

But, as for the last time she came up with laden 
pails, slowly now, and with panting breath, for 
fatigue and excitement were beginning to tell on 
her, she chanced to glance toward the ceiling of the 
shed. Alas! what did she see! 

There was a little loft overhead, and the dusty 
cobwebs hanging down must have been licked at 
by the flames, for sparks of fire were trembling here 
and there among the rafters — last remnants of the 
conflagration, but none the less dangerous for that. 

“ Oh, if the fire gets headway up there, all is lost!’’ 


ISLAND PATTY 


So 


Patty exclaimed, half sobbing. “There is a little 
hay up there at the farther end, where the hens used 
to have their nests. It’ll go like tinder!” Frantic 
with dread, she groped around among the charred 
wood in the shed until her hands touched a ladder 
lying there. 

She propped it up against the rafters and began 
to ascend. But as her feet touched its lower round, 
the latter, crumbling, broke — the fire had charred it. 
The second round, though creaking ominously, bore 
her weight and up she mounted, carrying one pail. 

The smoke, after its fashion, had risen to the loft 
and choked and blinded her, but she made her way 
bravely to the scarlet threads of flame, tossed on 
the water and retreated. 

She brought up the second pail. That and the first 
were apparently successful in entirely extinguishing 
the fire, but Patty was not quite satisfied. 

“ I’ll go down to the river and bring up some more 
water so as to be sure no sparks are remaining,” she 
said. 

She turned to go down the ladder, but found 
herself strangely tremulous from fatigue and ex- 
citement. Somehow — she could never tell how it 
happened — the handle of one of the pails caught 
on the end of the ladder, and, in extricating it, she 
lost her balance — she and the unsteady ladder fell 
heavily into the black, wet, smoke-begrimed depths' 


86 


ISLAND PATTY 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Aunt Creshy stood in the doorway of the cot- 
tage at Minnow Island, and her round face wore a 
look of great perplexity. 

She glanced down toward the river upon the 
gray surface of which Patty’s boat was no longer 
seen, and then, looking up toward the trees growing 
at the other end of the island, she said, “I wish 
Retty an’ the boys’d come; then there ’d be more 
of us to help. I expect, though, tliat they’ll stay 
up there a while longer — it’s hard to tear boys 
away from anything like maple sugar; an’ as fur 
Retty, I guess she’d about as soon be there as here. 
She never was no hand to entertain me like Patty 
is, and I kind of guess she likes to kite off out of the 
way when I come visitin’ ! Don’t know as I blame 
her — a fat, humbly, old woman like me ain’t much 
company for a sprightly young girl! Only Patty 
puts up with me an’ treats me as well as she would 
the Queen of Sheby! But as for Patty — bless the 
girl’s heart! — I don’t know what she’s goin’ to do 
now ! 

“ I’d go over to the jedge’s place and helj) her, but 
land! I’m that clumsy I couldn’t do anything! 
Patty’d have to bother to haul me up the steps 


ISLAND PATTY 


87 


from the dock; steps always put me out of breath! 
Yet I can’t bear to think of her over there alone. 
Who knows what may happen to the poor dear! 
She’s that kind that when anything’s to be done, 
she rushes right in with no heed to herself. I wish 
her pa was here. I don’t know but what — yes, I 
guess I just will!” and Aunt Creshy’s voice took on a 
sudden firmness. 

She turned into the house, trotted quickly into 
the spare bedroom and donned her hood and shawl. 
Then, going down to the dock with a speed that 
surprised even herself, she shoved her boat off the 
slanting planks. This feat was accomplished with 
much puffing and many ejaculations. 

When the skiff finally settled into the water with 
a soft little pat that sent circling eddies around its 
bow. Aunt Creshy paused an instant to mop her 
red, perspiring face with the corner of her apron, 
after which, with a mighty sigh of doubt as to 
the result, she stepped down into the boat, steady- 
ing herself as well as she could, in spite of its wild 
waltzings, and when both she and her craft had 
calmed down a little, pushed off from the island. 
When once safely afloat, her self-possession was 
restored, and she rowed away with bold, swift 
strokes. 

More than once she looked hesitatingly toward 
Valetta Island, then shook her head, as if answering 
negatively some mental question. “No, it won’t 
do!” she at last spoke out. “I can’t help her — 
but I kin go an’ git help!” 

She rowed briskly away in the direction of Pine 


88 


ISLAND PATTY 


Island, the wooded crest of which rose dark against 
the far-away horizon. 

All the glory of the sunset had faded from the 
mirror of the waters. Aunt Creshy — brave soul! — 
began to feel somewhat timorous. 

“ I hope it won’t get dark too quick, before I get 
somebody to come an’ help ! I guess George 
Iry’d feel worried if he knowed what his ma was 
doin’ 1 But I’ve got to do it ! Le’ me see, I guess 
this is the shortest cut over to Pine Island where 
Patty said her pa was at work. Seems to me I have 
heard that there was a shoaly place between here 
and there. I hope I shan’t run ag’in’ a rock! 1 
can’t see very good; I forgot my specs. But my 
land! there ain’t no use in borryin’ trouble. The 
‘ Where Now’ ’s always been a lucky boat, and be- 
sides, as I am goin’ on an errand o’ mercy, I 
guess a merciful Providence ’ll look out for 
me!” 

Aunt Creshy’s trust was not in vain. Half way 
over to Pine Island, her dim eyes caught sight of 
something that appeared like a black rock sticking 
up out of the water, and while she held off cautiously 
she saw it move; then there was the silvery gleam 
of dipping oars, and presently, even without the 
aid of the lamented “specs,” the dear old woman 
saw that it was Ben Graham himself homeward 
bound. It took some little time for him to under- 
stand the true situation. Aunt Creshy, wrought 
up to a high nervous pitch, was rather incoherent 
in her explanations. 

There was a confused mingling^of “Casa Valetta” 


LofC. 


ISLAND PATTY 


89 


— “maple sugar” — “twins” — “fne!” — and Ben’s 
heart throbbed in great fear at the bare imagination 
of Grant and Meade consumed in flames. 

But soon he fully understood, and tying his boat 
to the “ Where Now'^ he rowed with right good-will 
toward Casa Valetta. 

Every now and then he and his companion glanced 
anxiously toward the latter place. 

Its quaint, irregular roof still loomed up dark 
against the sky. No lurid gleams were to be seen. 

“ She may have put it out,” panted Aunt Creshy, 
for she also was rowing hard. “But we can’t tell 
till we get round the bend an’ see the back })art 
where the fire was startin’. I smell smoke still ” — 
as the boat bumped against the dock at Valetta 
Island. 

“Patty! Patty!” she called in shrill tones that 
echoed far across the waters. “ Why don’t the child 
answer!” 

Ben Graham sent forth a mighty shout. 

Still no response! 

“I hope the dear child ain’t hurt!” quavered 
Aunt Creshy, and overcome by excitement and 
suspense, she began to cry softly to herself. Ben 
Graham set his teeth hard together. He was more 
frightened than he dared to own at the ominous 
silence. 

One thing, however, somewhat allayed his fears. 
The fire at Casa Valetta was checked — that was 
apparent, for not a red gleam was visible. But 
may not his child, overcome by the smoke, have 
been suffocated? 


90 


ISLAND PATTY 


He pulled Aunt Creshy out of the boat — using 
little ceremony. ‘‘Histed me as if I was a beef 
critter!” as the old lady afterwards said with many 
a chuckle. 

They hurried up the path leading to the rear of 
the house, around which still lingered stray spiral 
coils of smoke. 

Ben Graham had his lantern lighted. “Lucky I 
had it with me,” as he afterwards said. “I had 
taken it with me when I went to work that day 
because I expected to go over to Fisher’s Landing 
in the evening after my job was done; but some- 
thing made me change my mind — I suppose some 
folks might call it chance, but I call it the Lord!” 
reverently — and when I was through work, I 
up and put for home, and so met old Aunt 
Creshy!” 

The lantern was lighted and proved a great aid 
in discovering the whereabouts of Patty. Ben 
Graham turned its rays into the black, smoky shed 
and he and his companion uttered a simultaneous 
exclamation as they beheld the prostrate form 
lying by the fallen ladder. 

Thrusting the lantern into Aunt Creshy’s hand, 
Ben Graham sprang forward to lift his daughter. 

“Poor Patty! it’s just as I feared!” he groaned. 
“She’s fallen here and been smothered l)y the 
smoke!” 

But he was mistaken. Lying on the floor, there 
had come to Patty from the crack under the door 
a current of pure, fresh air that counteracted the 
foul air of the smoky interior. But the shock of 


ISLAND PATTY 


91 


the fall, and a sprained ankle resulting thereby, had 
caused her to faint. 

Once out in the open air, she soon revived, and 
perhaps the happiest moment in her father’s life was 
when she looked up into his face and smiled. A 
weak, pitiful little smile it was, to be sure, that 
illumined her wan, smoke-begrimed face — but it 
was very sweet to him. 

As for Aunt Creshy, she fairly jumped for joy; 
and though her motions could not exactly be called 
graceful, they were indicative of gratitude and 
genuine elation. 

“Patty Graham! you are the bravest little crit- 
ter!” she exclaimed over and over again. 

“I think you are the brave one!” said Patty. 
“As for myself, I know I was awfully frightened 
when I heard the wood crackling and saw the 
smoke and Hames. Fire is an awful thing! I felt so 
helpless! More than once I was ready to give up — 
my arms ached so carrying the heavy pails! Then 
I prayed — ‘O dear Lord! do help me! do give me 
strength to carry some more!’ — and he did — He 
always does!” — and Patty closed her eyes wearily, 
but with a sweet peace on her face. 

Ben Graham tore off his coat and spread it on the 
ground for his daughter to lie on. 

“I’ll leave you just a minute or two, my dear,” 
he said tenderly. “I want to pour a few more 
pailfuls of water on the shed — not that I really think 
it needs it, but just to make sure that there won’t 
be any chance of the fire starting up again. Then 
I’ll come back and carry you down to the boat, and 


92 


ISLAND PATTY 


when we get you home we’ll fix that ankle of yours. 
Aunt Creshy’s about as good a doctor as any one I 
know of in these parts.” 

‘^ril put applications of hot water on it jest as 
soon’s we get home,” said Aunt Creshy, with a 
professional air, as she tucked the coat close around 
Patty’s little figure. 

A few minutes later the three were down at the 
dock embarking for home. Patty, lying at the 
bottom of one boat, was towed by the other, which 
was rowed by her father and Aunt Creshy. As 
Ben Graham coiled up the painter of his skiff 
before taking up his oars, his attention was 
drawn to a small, humpy-looking parcel lying on 
the seat. 

“What’s this?” he inquired. 

Aunt Creshy made a grab for it, saying with shrill 
laughter, “My stars! if there ain’t the ginger cookies 
and piece of cake I was savin’ for George Iry! How- 
somever it got there I don’t know! I laid it in the 
bedroom near my hood and shawl, so’s I shouldn’t 
forgit it when I went home, an’ I s’pose I must have 
grabbed it up in a kind of absentminded way! Land! 
what things folks’ll do when they are excited! and 
the cake ain’t mussed a bit!” as she undid the 
parcel. 

A little ripple of laughter came from the rear boat, 
showing that Patty must have heard this dialogue 
and been amused in spite of the twinges of her 
sprained ankle. 

Her father, smiling at the merry voice, paused 
long enough from his rowing to call out, 


ISLAND PATTY. 


93 


‘'I don’t know but I ought to cheer you up still 
more, Patty mine! 1 got good news to-day! It’ll be 
pleasant for you to think about. There was a man 
told me to-day that there was a talk of appointing 
me inspector at Blankville. That’ll bring me double 
the income I have now. Seems as though things 
were getting brighter for us, doesn’t it, Patty 
girlie!” 

And, sounding softly above the lapping of the 
water against the sides of the boats, floated a 
girlish voice: 

“ Can 1 doubt his tender mercy 
Who through life has been my guide!” 

It was Patty singing in happy fashion to her 
weary yet grateful little self. 

Home was soon reached, much to the relief of all 
parties, not forgetting Retta and the boys, who, 
having in the dusk of evening come home from 
their sugaring, were greatly astonished at finding 
the house deserted. 

Under Aunt Creshy’s assiduous care Patty’s 
ankle soon became better, and after a restful night 
she was enabled to discuss with her father his pros- 
pective good fortune in gaining the inspectorship 
of Blankville. 

But, as the old saying has it, “ it never rains but it 
pours,” and it happened that ere he accepted this 
offer another came, different in kind and far more 
advantageous in every way. It was contained in 
a letter sent by Doris Leonard to her friend Patty, 


04 


ISLAND PATTY 



fathb:r, it s wisest to trust god, is\ 






ISLAND PATTYJ 


95 


and the close of the letter — and of our story — ran 
as follows: 

“ You know, dear Patty, how I have wanted you 
with me, and how I have puzzled my brains to find a 
way so that you need not be separated from those so 
dependent upon you. And a way has come! After 
our travels we expect to settle down, for a time, at 
least, in our home at Fairview — just out of New 
York City. It is the most beautiful of all uncle’s 
estates — a grand old place. The old lodge-keeper 
has just died and his house and situation are vacant. 
It is just the place for you and your father. Cran- 
bray and Rasp’s large fruit farm joins our place, 
and the boys will have a chance to earn some money 
picking berries. Then there are good schools near 
by — and of course you want the lads to have a good 
education — you and I have talked about that so 
often. As for yourself, Patty dear, there’ll be a 
fine chance. Uncle says he’ll never rest contented 
until he has an opportunity of balancing his account 
with you in the matter of your saving dear Casa 
Valetta from being burned to the ground! Y^ou 
dear, l)rave girl! how can we ever forget it! Uncle 
is i)lanning to have you go twice or three times 
a week into the city and take lessons from one of 
the very best artists. Y"ou see we’ve made all the 
arrangements — uncle, auntie and I — and of course 
Tom has been consulted, too. And I know you 
want to see dear little Tom. He isn’t so very little, 
though, now — he is growing finely and is the picture 
of health. You will be surprised when you hear 
him play! 


96 


ISLAND PATTY 


“ But I shan’t dare go into the wonders of Tom’s 
playing, or this letter would be too long. What 
I want now is to tell you to make yourself ready to 
come to Fairview. The lodge is very comfortably 
furnished, so you need not bring many things. 
Uncle has written to your father, giving him par- 
ticulars of the offer, and now, hoping to see you 
soon, I am, as ever, 

‘‘Y^our loving Doris.” 

“O father!” said Patty, as, two weeks later, she 
stood down on the shore and for the last time — 
for all the Grahams were to start for P'airview on 
the next day — watched the bright shield of the 
sunset make its shining reflection in the crystal 
waters, “O father, it’s always wisest to trust God, 
isn’t it! And the sweetest things and the best things 
are those that come after patient waiting! And 
there is never any sting to them !” 

“I guess that’s so,” said Ben Graham, and then 
he added, looking far across the shining waters, 
as though his eyes sought an unseen shore — “seems, 
’s though Sarah — your ma — had been kind of 
watching over us! If she is, I know she’s pleased 
with you, child — I’m sure of that!” 


THE END. 


!• 1001 


AUG 9 190' 


Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date; 



j JUL 1996 

ill 

MBOKKEEPEfl 


PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC 
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M o Cranberry Twp., PA 1 6066 
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